


mafs: foundation

by kittymills



Series: married at first sight [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Domestic Fluff, Earth... but also not really, Fluff, Honeymoon, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Lance and Keith Brotp, Lots of couples, M/M, Modern AU, Modern Setting, POV Alternating, Probably some angst, SHEITH - Freeform, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Slow Burn, The Author Regrets Everything, allurance in the background, and awkwardness, and wedding stuff, hopefully some smut, inevitable pining, married at first sight, ok so this is nothing like the show anymore, paramedic keith, team switch, the married at first sight au that nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-03-10 13:21:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 65
Words: 334,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13502366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittymills/pseuds/kittymills
Summary: {Previously "married at first sight"}Lance thinks Keith needs some romance in his life– but he knows Keith won’t go looking for it on his own so he signs Keith up for a unique experiment designed to determine if science can predict true love.The Holt siblings think Shiro works too hard and under that very capable façade lies a soft heart that just needs a bit of love. They’re skeptical of the experiment’s professed success rate but they encourage Shiro to apply – it's all in the name of science after all.~*~[MAFS BLOG][MAFS PLAYLISTS]





	1. came here for love

**Author's Note:**

> _____  
> UPDATE: 12/01/2019: Thank you again to every single person who has commented or left kudos or who's sent me a message about this AU, I'm so glad I have been able to share it (And I'm sorry I SUCK at replying to comments, I will get through them all eventually I promise!). I'm nowhere near done playing in this sand box and a sequel is currently in the works (this is how I'm coping with the shamozzle that was S8!) so I hope you'll stick around for the next installment. 
> 
> UPDATE 6/6/2018: So I didn't expect this fic to consume me like it has and it's become my baby, and kind of my therapy too so it's going to be ongoing for a while. I still have a lot of the plot I need to work through so if you're still with me, THANK YOU SO MUCH. The constant love and support I've gotten from this AU has been amazing and I can't tell you what it means to me. I hope you'll stick with me and these idiots some more <333  
> ____  
>    
> "The cart comes way before the horse with this. People who agree to participate in an extreme experiment: Each covenants legal marriage with a complete stranger. Specialists - including a spiritualist, a relationship coach and a sociologist - use scientific matchmaking methods to determine each couple, who will not have met or had contact with each other until the wedding day."
> 
> **chapter titles come from songs in the mafs playlists**

([X](http://yumikoyuki.tumblr.com/image/174858628549))

* * *

 

Keith has done a lot of stupid shit in his twenty-five years, but getting married to a complete stranger has got to be at the supreme summit of that list.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me in to this,” he says.  He’s sitting in the back seat of a limo opposite his best man in a sleek dark burgundy suit that costs more than he makes in a year.  He fiddles with the collar of his shirt and it honestly feels like it’s going to choke him.  The limo swings around a corner and the crystal glasses resting by a cooling bottle of champagne rattle with the motion. His hands go white where they grip the doorhandle.  “I’m going to kill you when this is all over.”

“Not if it turns out to be your soulmate,” Lance grins at him.  He’s also dressed to the nines, a slick dark navy suit that goes beautifully against his dark skin.  A splash of pink on his chest brings a romantic touch to his ensemble.  “Then you’ll be thanking me.”

“What are the odds of that though?” Keith mutters.  He closes his eyes and leans back against the plush seat.  He tries not to think about the limo inching him closer to the venue where apparently, he’s going to meet the man he’s going to marry for the first time.  Right before the ceremony.  In front of all their family and friends and anyone that’s ever mattered to them.

It’s like a blind date but with all the pressure and all the commitment.

 _This is fucking insane_ , he thinks for the millionth time that day.  _I’m fucking insane._

It had been another one of Lance’s hairbrained ideas.  Lance, recently betrothed and suddenly a self-proclaimed expert on love and relationships, decided that his childhood best friend needed a bit of romance in his life.  Bolstered by a few too many cocktails at his engagement party, he signed Keith up for a social experiment that promised to give Keith his best odds of finding love in a very cold and cynical world.  Lance had been every bit as surprised as Keith was when the call came through that Keith had been shortlisted and after a few threats, a few dares and _a lot_ of cajoling, Keith reluctantly agreed to see it through.

What followed was a surprisingly exhaustive few months of bizarre tests, from tedious interviews to full blood work and even the oddest (and possibly grossest) thing he’d ever had to do in his life which fell neatly under the banner of _pheromone testing_.  It was weird to think that someone out there was being forced to sniff his used gym clothes just has he had been forced to sniff theirs.  He really hoped that would be the weirdest thing that would come out of this experiment but somehow, he didn’t expect to be so lucky.

Every test was all in an effort to rank his compatibility with other candidates and he easily lost count of the amount of times he almost pulled the plug on the whole debacle but it turned out to be easier to just go through with the selection process and hope he was discarded than it was to break out of the experiment early.

“It will be fine,” Lance had assured him when he complained about the contract. “What are the actual chances that out of six couples to be chosen and literally thousands and thousands of applicants that they’ll pick _you?”_

Keith tried not to be offended at that and then promptly put the whole process of his mind.  Lance had a point, it _was_ unlikely he’d be chosen.  There was nothing to worry about.  No need to try to explain to his intense family and workmates why there would be a wedding invitation in the mail when Keith hadn’t dated in years.

Except Lance was wrong. As usual.

Keith _had_ been chosen.  Against all the odds, a suitable candidate and a partner supposedly selected by science was waiting for him right now and it is all he can do not to wrench the limo door open and roll himself out onto the pavement to escape.

He only hopes that the person waiting for him is feeling as panicked and as nervous as he is.

* * *

 

Shiro had been to a few weddings over the years, mostly of friends and work colleagues but he never expected to be here waiting for his own to start.  He’d thought about it, hoped for it, sure, but since his accident, dating and trying to find someone who could see past his physical disability and trauma had turned out to be a fruitless exercise.

He’d been lucky in finding a family in the Holts to help him rebuild his life though.  Incredibly gifted and with one hundred percent faith in the wonders of science, they’d encouraged him to branch out, to try something new.  He’s signed up for the experiment with their full support and Matt waits with him now.

“You doing okay, Shiro?” Matt questions, one eyebrow raised as he watches Shiro pace anxiously in the room they’ve been assigned to wait. Outside, rows of delicate white chairs line the lush grass of the manor’s gardens and they fill slowly with guests.  Towards one end, there’s a small arbour lined in flowers and a flowy white material, and rose petals line the makeshift aisle between the seats. “You’re going to wear a groove in that rug, you know.”

Shiro’s pacing falters and he forces himself to stand in one spot and suck in a deep breath.  “I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous in my life,” he confesses.  His hand trembles as he tugs absently on his sleeve in a self-conscious attempt to hide his prosthetic. “Not even my first solo flight.”

“Well, you’re doing a lot better than most.  You’ve got science on your side,” Matt grins at him.  He makes an attempt to flex but he’s restricted by his suit and he frowns then shrugs as though the whole ordeal isn’t that big of a deal. He supposed it isn’t to him, Shiro thinks.  It isn’t going to be Matt’s heart splattered all over the pavement if this whole experiment goes badly. Shiro was all for trusting science (lord knew his heart was useless) in choosing a partner but damn if he wasn’t so nervous he felt like he wanted to be sick all over his shiny black leather shoes. 

“Most people getting married at least know the name of the person they’re going to marry, Matt,” Shiro says dryly. 

Without realising, he’s wandered over to the window and he’s looking down at where the crowd gathers.  He spies a few familiar faces, namely Katie Holt, Matt’s younger sister and her big burly boyfriend Hunk in the front row. Beside them, Commander Holt and his wife have taken the remaining seats and they’re all looking around curiously as though trying to gauge the identity of the man Shiro will be marrying in a few short minutes from the remaining guests.

Shiro knows how they feel but he forces himself to drag his gaze away.  He’d promised himself that he would go into this without any set expectations.  He didn’t want to have them because he hoped that his future partner wouldn’t have the same…. Because if he did, Shiro knew he would be probably be disappointed.

The door opens and the social experiment’s head co-ordinator steps through on long, lanky legs.  His shockingly white hair is tied at the back of his nape neatly and his tanned skin makes him look older than the measly twenty-two years he claimed to be.  There was something a little off about him but Shiro couldn’t pin down what exactly.  In the end, he put it down to the finely cultured British accent and the saccharine smiles that didn’t quite reach his eyes.  

“Lotor,” Matt says gruffly. There was no love between the two men. “Is it time yet? Our boy here is going to lose the plot if this thing doesn’t get started soon.

“Only a few minutes more,” Lotor answers.  He fiddles with the piece over his ear and approaches Shiro.  He’s tall, almost taller than Shiro but he won’t meet Shiro’s eyes as he makes a few swipes on his tablet. “Your future husband is currently in the limousine at the entrance to this estate.” 

 _Holy shit._   Shiro has to gulp.  _This is really happening._   He’s going to get married to someone he’s never met, whose name he doesn’t know. He’s putting his future happiness in the hands of strangers and so-called experts.  He can’t decide if he’s terrified or just… excited to finally meet him.

Lotor looks him up and down speculatively.  “Are you ready for this, Mr Shirogane?”

Shiro casts a glance out the window.  The seats are almost all full now and the tempo of his heart kicks up a gear.

“You know what dad always says,” Matt pipes up, moving to stand beside Shiro even as Lotor moves away to continue tapping against his tablet.  “If you get too worried about what could go wrong-“

Shiro looks back at him with a grin and they say the rest together.

“You might miss the chance to do something great.”

They share a laugh and then Matt holds his hand out for a shake.  Shiro takes it then pulls Matt into a hug.  “Thanks, Matt,” he whispers hoarsely.  He can feel the weight of the moment creeping up on him.  After today, nothing will be the same.

Behind them, Lotor clears his throat as he releases Matt. 

“Showtime, gentleman.”

* * *

 

(art by [kissingjosephine](http://kissingjosephine.tumblr.com/))


	2. and suddenly we had each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "vows" are taken directly from one of the many weddings on the show sooooo.... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> Also, I had to get up and walk away so many times writing this it's so self indulgent i'm embarrassed to ever show my face again (ha ha who am I kidding I can't stop myself)

Keith is keenly aware of the assembled guests not more than a few hundred meters away, hidden behind the flourishing garden beds that wove through the manor grounds.  It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining down, the air filled with the fragrance of flowers and there are the sweet sounds of music filtering over the airwaves.  It is a fairy-tale setting, so beautifully put together that it had even Keith believing in a fairy-tale ending.

He tilts his face up to the sun and closes his eyes, taking a moment to try to soothe his wildly fluctuating emotions.  The rays are so warm on his skin and he can’t help the hopeful thought that maybe it’s a good sign.  Sunshine at weddings is a good omen, right? He wishes he could ask Lance.  It would be something Lance would know, except that Keith was all alone in this small clearing, Lance having already been whisked away by the event co-ordinator to join the other guests and await Keith’s grand entrance.

It was brave of them, really, to leave him alone like this mere moments before the ceremony that would change his life forever.  After all, what’s to stop him from bolting down the path, out the gate, straight into the nearest uber and escaping this insanity?

Nothing but his own stubbornness it seems.

Keith wonders briefly if his so-called match is having the same thoughts and finds himself hoping that he’s not.  He’s not sure he could live with the embarrassment if he got to the altar and there wasn’t anyone there to meet him.  How bad would that be? Rejected without even being seen. 

Yeah, that would sting a little.

But now that the time has come, he finds himself pacing on the path and fiddling anxiously with his suit. 

 _Oh my god,_ he thinks. _This is… This is the most insane thing I’ve ever done._

Did he really want to put his life in the hands of strangers and tie himself to another person, his supposed ideal match, on a whim like this? What if they were wrong? What if there wasn’t someone who was a real match for him and he was paired with a man who would pick at all of Keith’s rough edges. What if it _was_ his match and it turned out he doesn’t want all of Keith’s rough edges.

Somehow, that was the scariest part. 

He bites his lip and takes a few steps then falters when he realises he’s still not ready.  Almost… but something isn’t right.  Earlier, Lance had forced him to slick his hair back from his face, something a more fashionable style the mess he usually sported and Keith had agreed just to shut him up, but now he combed his fingers through the strands and yanked them forward again.  No doubt Lance will bitch at him for it but Keith figured that was a problem for future him.  His hair was just about the only shield he had to hide the emotions that would be running rampant over his face.  He needed to go into this with _some_ kind of armour.

With his hair back to normal, he closes his eyes and draws in a long, slow breath.  This was it. Now or never.  Keith had never run from anything before in his life and he wasn’t about to start now.  He opens his eyes and looks down the path where the rest of his life was waiting. 

 

* * *

 

Shiro feels like there is a hundred pairs of eyes on him as he makes his way up the petal strewn aisle towards the beautifully decorated arbour that he would stand under to say his vows.  He can hear the crowd whispering over the music as he passes, some familiar faces giving him warm smiles or a thumbs up in encouragement but there are plenty more he doesn’t know and they eye him speculatively from the tip of his prosthetic hand all the way to the scar across the bridge of his nose.  It makes his skin itch under his dark grey suit and it becomes one of those rare times he wishes he didn’t wear his past traumas quite so openly on his body for all to see.

He’s halfway down the aisle when he spies Katie in the front row on what he assumes is supposed to be ‘his’ side.  She’s almost falling out of her seat to wave at him, her huge boyfriend holding her easily with one hand on her hip so she doesn’t topple out completely. She looks so excited he wants to wave back but he’s not sure on the etiquette of walking down the aisle at his own wedding so he settles for a quick wink instead.  He assumes it makes him seem a lot more relaxed than he actually feels because then Matt turns to look at him and his smile is warm and expectant.

He feels like an eon has passed by the time he finally makes it to the arbour.  A light gust kicks up, sending flower petals fluttering and dancing over his feet even as the gauzy material floats in the breeze.  Somehow, the tempo of his heart kicks up along with it and the multitude of what he’s about to do settles over him once again.

 _Believe in this,_ he tells himself.  _Have faith in the process._ He wants this to work. He manages to stop himself before he sends up a prayer to the heavens.

There’s a few long, agonizing minutes where he waits for his future husband to arrive and tries not to think too hard about what he might be like.  It was all too easy to fall into the cycle of what if this, what if that – better to just centre himself and trust the process that from today, his life will be all the richer for this plunge he’s about to take.

When the hush settles in the crowd behind him, he knows that his future partner has arrived and he’s suddenly grateful to have his back turned.  He’s frozen in that moment, heart racing and wanting to turn to finally lay eyes on the man he’s going to marry for the first time, but also terrified that his world will crash down around him if he does.  It hits him for the first time how hard he’s hoping for that connection, an initial spark to give him hope that yeah… maybe the experiment could be the answers to all those secret hopes he didn’t want to acknowledge behind his heart. It makes him vaguely sick to realise how much his happiness already resided in someone else’s power. That wasn’t something he was sure he could ever be entirely comfortable with.

It takes a monumental effort to stop himself from trembling and he manages to turn slowly towards the other end of the aisle. _This is it,_ a voice is screaming in his head. _Here he comes!_

He has to blink as the sun glints between the trees, momentarily blinding him.  It feels like a little bit of torture that the universe would make him wait just those few fractions longer before he could see him and when the glare clears, he sees a slim figure approach the aisle, stepping off the path and onto the grass.  He’s wearing a suit that’s rich with burgundy tones that contrasts with his pale skin and dark hair that hides his eyes and curls just over the top of his shirt collar. Even from here, Shiro can see that he’s not tall, but he’s lean and sharp and Shiro’s heart thuds with anticipation because even from this distance, he’s the most beautiful man Shiro has ever laid eyes on. 

Then the man approaching looks up and their eyes meet. For an instant, Shiro is dizzy with the instant attraction that snaps between them. 

He does pray then. He prays to whatever god might be listening that this man won’t find Shiro lacking – he’s not vain by any standard but Shiro knows he’s got a lot going for him in spite of his missing limb and scars both inside and out.  He hopes it’s enough.

The crowd remains hushed in anticipation as the smaller man makes his way up the aisle. He approaches closer and it’s though he breathes a sigh of relief once he reaches Shiro’s side. Immediately, Shiro feels a kind of kinship.  Whatever happens from here, at least they’ll be facing it together and hopefully, as a team.  It takes some of his anxiety away and the same thought seems to occur to the man in front of him too because they glance sideways at each other and share a small, shy smile. There’s a few beats of awkward silence before a man in navy coloured suit in the front row cups his mouth and calls out, “Name! Get his name!”

There’s a smattering of laughter from the gathered guests that Shiro nervously echoes.

“Uh, hi,” he tries to smile but he’s sure it comes out more like a nervous grimace.  He holds out his hand before belatedly realising how ridiculous it is that he’s about to _marry_ this guy and he’s going for a handshake and with his prosthetic hand at that.  Oh well, he’s going to realise sooner or later.  Shiro _really_ hopes it won’t be an issue.  “I’m Shiro.”

The smaller man doesn’t even look at Shiro’s extended hand, taking it in his own without flinching at the cool metal of Shiro’s prosthetic. Is it possible to fall in love from that action alone?  Shiro suspects it might be.  Maybe this science thing has something going for them after all.

“I’m Keith,” he says and he ducks his head slightly until a lock of hair covers one side of his face.

Keith’s voice is a little husky, maybe from nerves, but Shiro likes it immediately.  _Keith_.  Shiro is immensely relived to finally be able to put a name to him.  So many nights he’d laid awake thinking about his match, what his name might be, what his smile might be like… He finds himself repeating it softly as the celebrant approaches from the side and he drops his hand.

Turns out, Keith sounds nice on his tongue.

 

* * *

 

Keith isn’t sure how he made it up that aisle without tripping face first over his own feet.  _Was that him? That guy?_ Holy shit, it was a bit like all of Keith’s Christmases and every wish he’d ever asked for had all been granted and come at once.

He. Is. Beautiful.

Keith has to swallow back the lump in his throat as he tries to get another eyeful of Shiro beside him.  He’s tall, shoulders wide enough to hold up a city and set with a kind of military bearing.  Keith’s mind vaguely registers the slash of a scar against his nose and cheeks but it does nothing to detract away from his lovely slate grey slanted eyes over high cheekbones and a strong jawline.  He fills out his suit so beautifully Keith is convinced himself he must be dreaming. He’s dead, succumbed finally to Lance’s terrible flying and he’s lying in a ditch somewhere bleeding out.

The celebrant instructs them to face each other and Keith finds it hard to concentrate with the broad expanse of chest in front of him.  Jesus, but he’s tall and Keith has to crane his neck to look up at him.  He’s almost startled when he does.  Shiro is looking down at him with something unfathomable in his expression and full lips Keith can’t stop himself from staring at.

As Lance would say to him… _the thirst is real._

“Um... Wow.”

Keith can’t catch the words before they spill out of his mouth and there’s laughter from the guests assembled.  He flushes but Shiro is grinning wide, those beautiful grey eyes dancing with pleasure and Keith can’t help but smile stupidly back.  _It’s the nerves_ , he tells himself.  _It’s just the fucking nerves._

“You took the words out of my mouth,” Shiro says and there’s more laughter from the crowd but suddenly Keith can’t hear them because Shiro reaches for his hand and the contact causes his heart to stutter painfully then it’s off and racing faster than the speed of light.

He’s barely aware of the celebrant stepping forward and beginning to speak, focused as he is on Shiro.  As the celebrant’s words begin to filter through, the chuckles from the crowd at his awkwardness fades away and the weight of the occasion starts to lean on him.

“Shit, we’re really doing this,” he mutters under his breath but he surprises himself by not letting got of Shiro’s hand. It’s an effort to drag his gaze back up to Shiro’s face so he takes a few more moments to stare at his shoes and suck in a shaky breath, then breathing it back through his nose. He tries to picture a calm blue ocean but finds himself wondering if Shiro is a beach lover instead.   

“We’re here today to celebrate this very important moment. To witness the union of two people who have only just met,” the celebrant starts.  He’s an older man with a booming voice that carries easily over the gathered guests.  Keith forces himself to straighten up, hoping that his fingers don’t get clammy in Shiro’s hands.  “Without knowing each other, Shiro and Keith, you have made the decision to love.  You’ve entered into this union voluntarily and of your own free will.”

“We’re crazy, is what he’s saying,” Shiro says conspiratorially to Keith when the celebrant pauses to take a breath.  The crowd laughs. 

“I think everybody knows that,” Keith responds dryly but Shiro’s little interjection chases away some of his nerves and he finds himself relaxing ever so slightly.  It feels surprisingly good to have Shiro holding his hand, as though they are already bonded against whatever was about to be thrown at them next.  It was a novel feeling for someone like Keith.

The celebrant continues then, turning to address Shiro first. 

“Please, repeat after me.  I promise to be open to all that love offers, and to have faith in what has brought us here together today.”

The mention of the word _love_ makes Keith startle.  There were a lot of things that love was used so casually with.  He _loved_ to fly, his _loved_ his job, he _loved_ pizza with pineapple on it.  But love Shiro? A man he’d only just met? It seems presumptuous to be throwing that word around so soon. 

Then again, he already knows he _loves_ that jawline.

There’s a slight squeeze against his fingers as Shiro repeats the words. Keith had expected there to be a minor tremble to his voice but Shiro speaks so clearly and confidently no one would guess at the way his hand quivers against Keith’s own.  

Somehow Shiro’s confidence seems to leak over onto Keith and when it’s his turn to repeat the words, his voice doesn’t falter.  

“I enter this marriage with an open mind and faith in the decision made by science and the experts.”

As far as promises goes, Keith supposes that in their situation, it didn’t get much simpler than that.  He knew he hadn’t originally been keen on the process but over time, he’d fallen deeper in to the abyss of just wanting to know if there was someone out there would could put up with his bullshit.  Someone he could love in return.  He’d never considered himself a romantic and yet, here he was.

Before his mind could wander any further down that path, the celebrant announces the exchange of rings and Keith releases Shiro’s hand to turn to where Lance has appeared beside him.  Lance pushes the ring into his palm then leans in.

“You’re doing great, bud,” he whispers but then he’s back in his seat before Keith can think to respond.

“Shiro,” the celebrant says as Shiro turns back to face him.  He takes Keith’s hand once again, cradling it in a palm that wasn’t flesh and before holding the ring at the tip of his finger with the other.  “Do you take Keith to be your husband, to love and support him in every way and to cherish him throughout this marriage?”

Shiro’s voice cracks ever so slightly as he slips the ring onto Keith’s finger. The ring is black titanium with an inner red band, something a little on the unusual side and not very traditional.  “Like you guys,” Lance had said with a wink when he helped Keith to pick them out.  The sight of the dark ring against his finger makes him feel like he’s having an out of body experience.  It looks so right against his skin he’s convinced it must be wrong.

“I will.”

When it’s Keith’s turn to repeat the vows and place the ring onto Shiro’s hand, he struggles. His throat feels like it wants to close up and he can barely get out the words as a croak.  The ring slides over Shiro’s finger, nestling in perfectly against his skin just as the celebrant announces them as husband and husband.  Shiro surprises him by pulling him close and enveloping him in a hug that surrounds him more than with just his arms.

“Kiss! Kiiiiiiss!” Lance hoots and he’s joined in by a number of other others and suddenly what feels like the entire group of guests is calling for it.  Keith fidgets under the demands but briefly tilts his face upwards.  Shiro meets him hallway and it’s barely a peck before it’s all over and there’s clapping and whistling from the crowd.

 

* * *

 

Shiro feels dazed as he leans back from their quick kiss and the shower of rose petals settles over them.  He would have liked the kiss to have been more but then again, he really wants to have an actual conversation with his new husband too but as their friends converge on them to offer their congratulations, Shiro feels like that isn’t going to happen any time soon. It’s really heart-warming though, to see how happy his friends are for him.  He guesses that means Keith gets their tick of approval and that takes away a large chunk of his nerves.

Katie darts through the crowd to appear at his side, shamelessly jumping up to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down into a hug.  Somewhere behind him, he’s aware of Keith being pulled into hugs of his own.

“Oof,” he chuckles as he hugs her back. “Thanks, KT.”

“He looks kind of emo, but if anyone can get him to smile, it’ll be you,” she whispers in his ear before releasing him and stepping back so that Hunk can pull him into a hug of his own.

“Oh, man, I’m so happy for you! This is a great wedding, it’s a great wedding, isn’t it a great wedding?”

“It’s great,” Shiro laughs.  Hunk finally releases him long enough to pull back and eye him critically.

“How’s the arm, no pain?”

Shiro shakes his head.  “No pain, Hunk. Thank you.”  He’s about to say more since Hunk doesn’t look entirely convinced when there’s a shout from behind him.

“Hunk? HUNK? You big, gassy genius, come here!”

Shiro glances over to see the guy who’d shouted at them to kiss barrel straight into Katie’s boyfriend.  “Holy crow, man! Haven’t seen you since primary school!”

“Lance?!” Hunk gapes for a heartbeat then he gathers the man he called Lance up in a hug. 

“Wait,” Keith materializes back at Shiro’s side having managed to disengage himself from well-wishers.  He stands close to Shiro and Shiro gets a strange buzz that Keith is already comfortable enough to come into his personal space. “You two know each other?”

“Went to school together,” Lance tries to say but his voice is muffled from Hunk’s embrace. Hunk grins sheepishly then releases him and Lance quickly smooths down his suit. 

“Okay, I don’t know what kind of cosmic voodoo this is but it’s gotta be a good sign.”  Lance shuffles over to Keith’s side and punches Keith lightly on the shoulder.  “Hey, congrats man.”

Lance turns to Shiro then, and eyes him speculatively.  Shiro gets the distinct impression he needs to win Lance over if this marriage is going to go smoothly. 

“Lance, right?” Shiro steps forward and smiles.  He extends his hand but it’s not his flesh one and he notices Lance’s eyes flick down to it briefly.  Shiro braces himself for the recoil or the odd grasp that comes from most people and tells himself it doesn’t bother him but Lance doesn’t pause more than a heartbeat before he grins and they shake with a firm grip.

“Glad to finally meet you, Shiro.  You need any inside goss on our boy Keith here,” he jerks a finger in Keith’s direction. “You just come straight to me, all right?”

Shiro chuckles and releases Lance’s hand as he steps back.  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

So far, so good.

 

* * *

 

With the ceremony over, Keith is starting to feel restless.  There’s been too much attention on him, too many people pulling him into hugs and slapping him on the back and wishing him well when he finds himself desperately needing to just _escape_.

He needs a few moments to compose himself, to work through the events of the ceremony and try to work out what he really felt about the man he’d just married.  Shiro seems amazing, and a cynical part of him thinks it’s all a little too good to be true.

Without thinking too much about it, he steps closer into Shiro’s orbit.  Shiro is a tall guy, his presence is full enough that people seemed to give him a bit of space and Keith finds himself wanting to slip into that protective bubble. Shiro gives him a warm glance when he slides closer but before he can say anything, Lance and the big guy are hugging and laughing and then Shiro introduces himself to Lance.  Keith feels something he doesn’t recognize flutter in his chest at the sight of Lance and Shiro shaking hands.  His best friend (and the closest thing he has to a brother) and his husband.

Wow. He’s a husband now. He _has_ a husband now.  If anyone had told him three years ago he would beat Lance to the altar, he would have laughed in their face so hard he’d probably give himself an ulcer.

And yet, here he was.  He hung back a little as Shiro and Lance chatted.  The conversation between them seemed to flow easily but then, Keith got the impression they were both people who were comfortable around strangers. It had been Shiro that made the first effort to say something at the altar and to be completely honest, if he hadn’t, Keith is pretty sure he wouldn’t have been able to say anything at all.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to let Lance talk too much to your new husband?”

Keith looks up at Allura, utterly beautiful for the day in a pale pink gown and her platinum hair piled high above her head.  Loose tendrils curled softly around her cheeks and her bright blue eyes are shining with warmth as she easily links her arm with his. 

“Well, they’re going to have to get used to each other if thing works out,” he shrugs.  Allura laughs softly.

“So, you’re not mad at him?”

“Allura,” Keith sighs a little. “It wasn’t my idea to sign up for this-“ he waves his hand to encompass the wedding, the guests, Shiro… the whole experiment. “But it was my idea to go through with it.”

“And we all know that no one can make you do anything you don’t want to do.”  She gives him a gentle nudge and his cheeks heat a little.  She’s not wrong. “I’m glad,” she says.

Keith likes Allura.  She’s beautiful and strong and led Lance on a merry chase until she finally took pity on him and let him take her out.  Keith figures anyone who can give Lance as good as he gets is all right in his book.  That was three years ago now and finally after four proposals, Allura finally said yes.

“Yeah,” Keith finds himself agreeing. His gaze is drawn back to Shiro, now chatting to the Holts and he’s suddenly aware of the band around his finger. “Me too.”

 “Oh, no. Don’t look now but here comes that creepy guy.”

Keith glances over and sure enough, Lotor is stalking through the crowd towards them. 

 

* * *

 

 

Art by the fabulous [GEE](http://gee-lil-shit.tumblr.com/post/173459867374/strangers-putting-their-lives-in-the-hands-of)


	3. this is a beautiful start, to a lifelong love letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry I am such trash (not sorry)

Shiro is trying to think of something witty to say to the guests that will enable him to drag Keith away somewhere private so that they can get to know each other a little before the reception starts up in earnest when Lotor shows up.  It’s a rude reminder that this event is part of a social experiment and there were any number of scientists, psychologists and god knows who else that demand to know every detail of the day. It reminds him that despite the vows he and Keith exchanged and whatever bond they may feel for each other now, they’re not ever going to be in it completely alone.

“Shiro,” Lotor greets him with a slight twist on his lips.  Shiro gets the distinct feeling that Lotor is looking down his nose at him and it instantly sets him on edge.

“Lotor,” he nods.  Lotor beckons to the ever-present tablet he holds in his hands.  “It’s time to record your thoughts on the ceremony… now that you have met your selected match.”

Shiro frowns and glances around at the people mingling.  Keith is standing off to the side talking to a striking dark-skinned woman, too far away for Shiro to catch his eye.  “Right now?”

“Well,” Lotor says. The way he speaks is calculating enough to remind Shiro he’s probably not going to like the intrusive questions Lotor will be asking. “I have arranged for an area nearby away from the guests that would be suitable if you prefer privacy.  Time is limited, however.  The photographer is already waiting for you both to commence the wedding photos.”

“Wedding photos? Ah, right,” Shiro says faintly. He’d been so focused on just getting through the ceremony that he honestly hadn’t given much thought to the traditional aspects of what came after.

“Very well, if you would follow me.” 

Shiro casts one more glance in Keith’s direction just in time to see him lift his head with eyes searching through the crowd.  They land on him and Keith raises a thick eyebrow questioningly and Shiro finds himself shrugging apologetically and gesturing towards Lotor as he follows the other man down the path.  Keith nods once just before Shiro disappears from sight and Shiro wonders what sort of secrets he’s going to have to spill this time.

 

* * *

 

Keith gives it all of two minutes before he excuses himself from Allura’s side and follows Shiro down the path where he disappeared with Lotor.  He isn’t worried about Shiro being called away, he knows if he waits long enough, Lotor will be demanding his own time as well but since he’d just made promises to Shiro in front of all their family and friends, he wasn’t about to let Shiro face the sleazy co-ordinator on his own.

“Thought you might need rescuing,” Keith says to him as he finds them. He tries not to let himself get too carried away by the pleased and grateful look Shiro sends him.  “Lotor here really enjoys getting his nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

Lotor deigns to look at him but his lip curls into yet another thinly veiled sneer. “Ah, Mr Kogane,” he says. “Very fortuitous that you are here, it will make this process faster.”

“Let’s hope so,” Keith says it mildly but there’s a faint undertone of annoyance.  He goes to Shiro’s side. “Let’s get this over with.”

If Lotor is bothered, he doesn’t show it.  Instead he lowers the tablet and tilts his head.  There’s a long pregnant pause before he speaks.

“Normally I would as you these questions privately but since you have chosen to present a united front, I will keep it simple.”

 _A united front_.  Yeah, Keith thinks.  He likes that.

“Go ahead then,” Shiro says.  He glances down at Keith who shrugs slightly.  Hopefully Shiro is on the same page as him.

If he’s not…. Well, Keith’s going to find out soon enough.

 

* * *

 

Shiro hadn’t been expecting Keith to follow him down the path but he was irrationally pleased that he did.  Not only that, he’d come straight to Shiro’s side and then Lotor said something about _a united front_ and Shiro is pretty sure that something has short circuited in his brain because of all the hopes he had for the outcome of today, this was something he didn’t dare let himself think about.

Lotor’s questions were the usual kind.  _What are your thoughts on this, what are your thoughts on that?_ And it turned out that Keith was a master deflector and surprisingly skilled at being able to give Lotor just enough to move him onto the next question and yet not really give too much away.  It was actually pretty impressive and Shiro found his stock in Keith just went up another number of notches – if that was even possible.  Shiro was well on his way to being smitten.

Eventually, Lotor had slunk away only to be replaced by the photographer who turned out to be a sprightly older man with a head full of vibrant ginger hair and the thickest moustache Shiro had ever seen.  He was busily bossing them around, forcing them to shuffle into vaguely intimate positions while he hovered around them snapping away.

“Alright, alright, so lean in together, that’s it, don’t be shy, you’re married now, think about your recent nuptials, think about how much you love each other….  get close… no, closer! That’s it!”

“Do you think he knows we only met an hour ago?” Shiro murmurs against Keith’s hair.  The current position had Keith in front of him, his back to Shiro’s chest and the top of his head tucked just under Shiro’s chin.

He’d initially hesitated when the photographer instructed him wrap his arm around Keith’s waist and pull him close, but not because he didn’t want to - he found he wanted to a bit _too_ much.  Shiro suspected it was part of the so-called expert’s plans.  No doubt pushing them together in such close proximity would be telling to how comfortable they are together and possibly indicate how the rest of the marriage might go.

Shiro wasn’t sure how to feel about it.  Trailing after the photographer in the gardens was the closest they’d had to any alone time together and it immediately brought back all his nerves from earlier in the day with an avalanche.  He’s sure he’s not imagining it when he’s pushed closer to Keith and he can feel tension radiating of his lean frame.

“It’s okay if you want to take it slow,” Shiro says quietly.  It feels like an awkward thing to say but awkwardness seems to be the name of the game on this day.  “It doesn’t matter what the crazy guy says-“  he breaks off when Keith shakes his head.

“I.. no, it’s okay. I mean,” Keith lets out a half laugh and glances up at Shiro from under his hair. “We’re husbands now, right?”

It hits Shiro hard hearing those words out of Keith’s mouth and he has to swallow back something at the back of his throat.

When he doesn’t respond, Keith turns in his arms slightly to look up again at him and then they’re staring at each other for a long torturous beat.  Shiro’s caught in Keith’s gaze, those wide eyes boring into his own with a surprising intensity.  He’s noticed that about Keith.  Sometimes his brows come together and the look in his eyes is sharp as though he’s keenly cataloguing every movement and every thought that floats in the air between them.  Shiro doesn’t realise how close their heads have drifted until the photographer yells at them again and the spell is broken.  Keith scowls in the photographer’s direction then, actually _scowls_ and Shiro can’t help but think it only makes him even more gorgeous when he does that.

That’s the first inkling that Shiro has that he’s already in too deep. 

The photographer directs them again and they bump together awkwardly trying to find the right position.  Shiro really wishes they could just have a few moments alone without someone telling them what to do.

“Husbands, yeah,” he finally remembers to say. “That has a nice ring to it.”

The photographer comes closer and arranges them into yet another position. By this point, Shiro has given up trying to fight it and he just concentrates on how nicely Keith fits in his arms.  It’s honestly unexpected.  He’s heard a lot of talk about _soulmates_ and _sparks_ and instant _connections_ between potential matches during the course of the selection process, but he’d never experienced them. If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure if he really believed in it.  Love at first sight? It was a fairy tale he was rapidly starting to reconsider his stance on.

“Now, how about a kiss, eh?” the photographer announced and Shiro blinks.  “Come on now, don’t be shy.  Huddle up and smack one on that pecker-“

Keith’s shoulders start to shake and Shiro realises he’s laughing. “Did he just-“

“I don’t know about you but I don’t move that fast,” Shiro says dryly, his tone full of humour.  Keith turns into his shoulder and snickers to himself but suddenly, a kiss is all Shiro can think about.

A real kiss.  Not just a quick peck in front of fifty pairs of eyes.

He tries to clear his throat.  “You know… He’s probably not going to stop yelling at us until we do… or at least until we lose the light but that might be a while yet.” Shiro wants to cringe inwardly.  _Hell, Shirogane, could you be any more obvious?_ See, this is why he was never good at dating.

Keith’s forehead crinkles and Shiro realises then that Keith’s thoughts hadn’t quite been following his own.  “Ah, a kiss,” he says. Butterflies crash around in his stomach.  “Can… Can I kiss you?”

Keith steps away then, causing the hands Shiro had been resting on his waist to drop and Shiro briefly worries that he’s pushed too hard but then Keith is facing him and looking up at him with an expression that’s guarded yet hopeful at the same time. He’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and Shiro can’t stop staring but then Keith nods once, and a faint flush spreads over his cheeks.

“I’d like that,” he says it so quietly Shiro isn’t sure he didn't imagine it.

There’s a quiet beat of his heart before Shiro lifts his hand, his flesh one, so that he can thread his fingers through the back of Keith’s hair where it spills over the edge of his collar.  Keith’s hair is soft and his fingers slide through the strands lovingly before coming to rest on the back of Keith's neck.  He can feel how still Keith has gone under his touch and for a brief moment, Shiro considers pulling away in fear that it’s too much, too soon. God, he really doesn’t want to fuck this up, he really wants this to work and then he sees the expression in Keith’s eyes. Eyes that are such a deep blue they’re almost violet and he’s aware somewhere in the back of his mind that he’s never seen eyes that colour before. Keith’s eyes are deep enough to drown in and Shiro fights a slight tremble in his limbs.  Keith seems to be holding his breath, hopefully in anticipation and Shiro doesn’t let himself wait any longer.  He leans down, his own eyes drifting shut as he brushes his lips over his new husband’s tentatively.  Keith’s lips are soft and pliant, everything he suspects Keith himself isn’t and at that first touch, Shiro is completely lost. 

 _This is it,_ a voice whispers somewhere in the corner of his mind.  _This is what you’ve been searching for._

It takes a supreme effort on his part to keep the kiss light.  Maybe it’s the fact he hasn’t eaten in far too long, or maybe it really is a match made in heaven, but he feels dizzy from their contact and without thinking, he curls his metal arm around Keith’s waist to steady himself.  It’s like he’s forgotten how to breathe but he just wants to linger there, his lips against Keith’s and thank the stars that his was man who had been plucked out of the crowd for him.  Especially for him.

He doesn’t want to ask for too much so he forces himself to draw back but before he can go too far, he feels sharp hands curling around his suit lapels to anchor him in place.  Keith is kissing him back then, pushing up on his toes to surge against him and crushing his lips against Shiro’s.  Shiro doesn’t wait a heartbeat more before he slants his head and parts his lips to deepen the kiss.  Keith meets his challenge and suddenly he’s on fire, heat and a powerful desire sliding over his skin.  He pulls Keith in close enough to smother the corsages on their suits but he doesn’t care, all he can focus on is the way Keith feels in his arms, the way he tastes - and Shiro is sure it will be branded on his soul forever.

If this doesn’t work out…

There’s a lull in the air around them and they finally pull apart, blinking dazedly at each other and breathing shakily. Shiro realises he’s not the only one trembling, a small shudder ripples over Keith’s form and Shiro reaches for his hand to calm him.  He twines their fingers together under the pretence of steadying Keith but it was really himself that needed the anchor.

“Well,” the photographer says petulantly, one hand on a cocked hip and a camera dangling from the other. “I really just meant a peck on the lips for the camera but okay, whatever floats your boat.”

“Sorry,” Shiro mutters but he’s not.  Not even remotely.  He’s still trying to catch his breath when Keith untangles their fingers and steps away.  Something drops in his stomach.

The kiss was amazing – so why does Keith suddenly look like he’s witnessing the end of the world?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please feel free to come yell at me on tumblr at flashedarrow.tumblr.com or in the comments... :)


	4. baby, will you fall for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Shiro try to actually have a conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it possible to die from this kind of obscene self indulgence? RIP ME

The kiss sends his emotions rioting so hard that Keith has to walk away.

He knows he’s on dangerous ground.  He’s known Shiro for less than a few hours and already he’s teetering so close to the edge of falling for him he’s utterly terrified.  Keith isn’t known for doing things by halves - he tries to, he really does, but he has a single-minded focus that can be all consuming – and if he falls for Shiro this quickly, it’s going to be desperate and powerful and he’s not sure he will be able stop the fire that will burn him up from the inside.  Shiro is either going to ready to catch him… or he’s going to run in the opposite direction and leave Keith holding his broken heart in his hands.

Keith is honestly not sure if he’s ready for that yet.  He’s not sure he’s ready to leave himself open to that kind of rejection and belatedly he realises he really didn’t consider this possibility hard enough when debating whether or not to participate in the experiment.  He just… didn’t expect there to be this kind of visceral connection to the man he’s married and he’s suddenly absolutely fucking _terrified._

He’s also an idiot. 

It occurs to him too late how his walking away from Shiro mere heartbeats after their earth shattering kiss would look to Shiro.  Too late, he swings back around to find Shiro staring down at his feet and casually brushing an imaginary piece of fluff off the shoulder of his dark suit, steadfastly avoiding eye contact. Keith finds himself staring, willing Shiro to look up at him and when he finally does, Keith knows he’s fucked up.

“Shiro-“

Shiro glances away, his expression closed off. He shrugs nonchalantly.  “You don’t have to say anything, I get it.”

“No, but I-“

He’s interrupted when the photographer jumps in again.  They forced to finish off the rest of the photoshoot, Shiro is different.  It’s subtle, but it’s there.  He’s slightly stiff and more stilted than before and Keith knows this time, it’s not the nerves. He flounders as he tries to think of something to say that will turn back the clock on the last ten minutes but once again, they’re whisked back into all the demands on them that being the couple of the moment entails.  They return to the gardens where the guests are and Shiro walks quickly away from him and into the arms of a couple Keith hasn’t met yet.  His heart sinks so low he’s almost surprised not to see it splattered on the grass in front of him.

In the shade of the manor’s imposing presence, the grounds are filled with people sharing drinks and chatting and it looks like a true wedding reception but Keith hangs back on the fringe for a few moments more. It turns out to be a mistake because Lotor suddenly materialises silently beside him.

Seriously.  This guy again?

He tries to keep the scowl off his face, fails, then decides he doesn’t care. 

“Let me guess, another update?”

“You are correct.”

Lotor directs him back to the clearing he’d followed Shiro to earlier but and he feels the absence of Shiro’s presence keenly.  One on one with Lotor like this means he wouldn’t be able to escape the more probing questions but he draws in a deep breath and straightens his shoulders.  These stupid little interviews were part of the deal, the sooner he sucked it up, the sooner he could get out of here and track down Lance – along with hopefully something strong enough to help him forget just how _fucking hopeless_ he is when it comes to romance.

Lotor doesn’t waste any more time and begins the interview and Keith has to force himself to concentrate.

“Yeah, look, like I told you earlier, he’s… he’s great. He’s really great,” he says, ignoring the camera hovering over Lotor’s shoulder. He hadn’t noticed it earlier but he’d guessed that everything was being recorded.  It made him feel uncomfortably like some kind of lab rat.

“So, would you say you are attracted to him?”

Keith remembers their kiss in the gardens and his body’s unexpected and immediate reaction.

Shiro cupping the back of his head should have felt stifling, it should have made him feel trapped or cornered - he was always reluctant to let anyone into his personal space, but Shiro touching him like that… it was so soothing Keith almost wanted to _purr_ in satisfaction.  Shiro felt so good, everything about him just felt like something out of a dream Keith never wanted to wake up from.  Even the arm he wrapped around Keith, the metal hard under his suit, had just made Keith feel secure and more grounded than he ever remembered feeling before.  He couldn’t stop himself from clinging to him when he’d tried to pull away, from deepening the kiss to the point he wanted to lose where he ended and Shiro began. 

His cheeks flush and he finds himself really hoping that Lotor doesn’t notice. “Uh, you could say that.”

“And over all, you’re… content with the outcome of today?”

“Sure,” he shrugs.  He makes a valiant effort to give Lotor more than just one words answers.  He knows from experience that unless they’re satisfied with the poking around in his head, they won’t let up. Give them just enough to leave him alone, he thinks.  “He’s good looking, he’s easy to talk to, he seems kind.” 

_He’s a phenomenal kisser and he smells so good and I just want to climb him like a tree._

Keith clears his throat roughly and hopes that he didn’t say the last part out loud.

Lotor nods then and makes a note of something on the tablet he carries.  He’s never without it and Keith refuses to let himself think about the kind of personal information about himself might be stored on there.  “And his… disability? That doesn’t bother you?”

Keith frowns then. For a moment he’s confused and isn’t sure what Lotor is asking. He pictured Shiro in his mind and couldn’t see anything… different.  Then it occurs to him what Lotor must mean.  “Wait, do you mean his prosthetic?”

“Yes,” Lotor says.  He looks up at Keith then, his eyes narrowing their focus and it immediately rubs Keith the wrong way.  Or maybe it was just what he says next.  “It doesn’t bother you that he’s….”  Lotor trails off.

“What?” Keith demands angrily.  He feels the heat flare under his skin and he leans forward, challenging Lotor to say more and ready to throw down on even the smallest hint of disrespect.  Keith wasn’t blind.  He was aware of Shiro’s scar, of the mechanical whirl of his fingers on one hand when they moved, but he just didn’t care.  He’d seen enough horrific accidents in his job to know that whatever Shiro had gone through to wear that kind of trauma, it wasn’t something that would polite conversation at a wedding.  It would have been ugly and frightening and distressing and Keith wasn’t about to hold it against him.  He glared at Lotor, daring the other man to even try.

A long pause stretches between them. “Interesting,” Lotor finally comments.  He smiles but it’s sickly sweet and it makes Keith feel a bit ill.  “Very well, you may go back to the reception and your guests.”

Keith doesn’t need to be told twice, he turns his back on Lotor without a second glance and storms down the garden pathways back to where the reception is getting into full swing. 

“Hey,” Lance catches his arm as Keith tries to stomp past. He almost doesn’t see him, the red fog of anger clouding his eyes and making him _itch_ to punch something.  Lance suddenly looks alarmed. “Hey, are you okay? What happened? You look like you’re about to kill someone.”

Keith has to pause and suck in a deep breath to calm himself.  He wasn’t sure what Lotor was getting at exactly but he had his suspicions and it made protective instincts he hadn’t felt in a long time flare up inside him. He’d wanted to thump Lotor in his smarmy face for trying to imply that Shiro was anything less than perfect.

And he was, Keith thinks, catching sight of him across the lawn. He’s holding a drink in one hand, his other (his metal one, Keith dimly notes) shoved casually in his pants pocket and he’s chuckling at something his friend is saying.  Keith’s already fond of Shiro’s laugh.  It starts as a rumble deep in his chest before spilling out and the way it makes his eyes crinkle and his lips curve upwards pulls at something inside Keith’s chest.  Jesus, but how did this happen so quickly? How did Shiro slide under his defences like this?

It makes his heart thud weakly against his chest.  Yeah. Perfect. Too perfect for someone like Keith with all his rough edges and fierce temper and the thought immediately makes him feel cold inside. He makes himself swallow and forces a smile to his face for Lance’s benefit but it’s a struggle. 

“Yeah, just more stupid interview questions from Lotor,” he says with a shrug.

“Ugh, hate that guy,” Lance nudges him in solidarity and then hands him a drink.  “Want me to run interference the next time he comes snooping around?”

Keith isn’t sure exactly what Lance means about running interference but he’s pretty sure it won’t be good.  He chuckles in spite of himself and takes a drink, relaxing as the cool liquid slides down his throat and the burn in his belly spreads through his veins.

He realises then he should probably eat something or too much alcohol in his system will make for an ugly groom.  As if the universe was reading his mind, the assembled guests are called to take their seats.

Everyone but himself and Shiro.

“Wait until I announce you guys, alright?” Lance grins with a light slap on Keith’s back and he disappears into the reception hall.  For once, he listens to Lance and waits until the guests file in and then it’s just himself and Shiro left lingering on the grass lawn.

Keith watches Shiro smooth down his suit and straightens his collar as he makes his way across the lawn to his side.  When Shiro looks up, he gives Keith a small smile and it’s a little awkward, as though he’s embarrassed or worse… wishing he was somewhere else.  It’s different to the smiles he had been giving Keith before the kiss and not for the first time that afternoon, Keith wants to punch himself.  They have a tiny window alone here but he doesn’t know how to broach his reaction to the kiss and explain to Shiro it wasn’t because he found it lacking in any way.  He’s still staring at Shiro longingly when Lance calls them forward and any chance he has to set things right before they face the party is gone.

 

* * *

 

Shiro feels like a bit of a coward hovering by the doorway for Lance to announce them.  He can feel Keith’s eyes on him, but he needs a moment to sift through the thoughts and emotions that flood him after the kiss. 

The kiss had floored him.  There was no other way to put it.  It was… it was like they said in those romance novels – fireworks, ground shaking, ascending to another realm… that’s what it had felt like to him.  He was almost sure that it felt the same way for Keith.  When they’d come up for air, Keith’s eyes had been wide and shocked like he was sure his own were. But then he’d reacted like he’d been burned, snatching his hands away, breaking the physical contact between them and then he’d walked off, leaving Shiro standing there wondering what the hell had just happened.

It was too much to process on a day that already had him doubting his own sanity. 

He shifts on his feet as Keith comes closer and shamefully avoids looking at his new husband.  He’s worried that if he does, Keith is going to see the turmoil written on his face and he’s not sure what would be worse… Pity that Shiro read way too much into the kiss, or something ingenuine that would set this marriage off on very uneven footing.

Who was he kidding? It was already uneven.  A heavy fist of doubt lands in his chest for the first time since he laid eyes on Keith.  Was this really a way to start a partnership and a marriage? Even with the help of ‘experts’ maybe there were just some things that couldn’t be forced. 

Like love.

There’s the sound of Lance’s voice booming out over speakers and the answering laughter of the guests in the reception hall and Shiro sucks in a deep breath and puts his game face back on.  It’s okay, he tells himself.  They still have so much time together. Perhaps it will become clearer later and he resolves to keep an open mind and stay hopeful.  With any luck, the reception may give him a chance to get a better idea of what type of person Keith really was… and if they were a good match or not.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great honour to introduce the newlyweds-“

He hears Lance say their names and then he turns to Keith, belatedly realising that they’re probably expected to hold hands as they make their entrance.  Keith must have had the same thought because he’s holding his hand out towards him with an unreadable expression on his face.  Shiro smiles weakly and takes it and wishes somewhere deep inside him that Keith’s hand didn’t fit quite so perfectly in his own and maybe, just maybe then he would be able to build up some kind of protective shell around his heart in case this whole debacle went to shit. He really didn’t want to be picking up the pieces of his heart a few weeks from now but then again, anything worth having was worth the risk… wasn’t it?

They step through the doorway together and Shiro has to blink at the sumptuous layout even as the guests warmly welcome them with cheers and clapping. They falter on the threshold for a moment to take it all in. There’s a huddle of round tables, all beautifully decorated with flowers and candles and trails of what he guesses to be ivy and the sparkle of expensive glassware.  It was a bit like the decorators had brought the gardens indoors and with the rapidly setting sun, the copious amount of small tealight candles hanging in delicate glass bowls from the ceiling bathed the entire room in a romantic golden glow. 

“This is incredible,” Keith murmurs from beside him and Shiro agrees. 

Lance catches his eye and gestures to the main table, set slightly raised above the others and long rather than round.  There’s about six seats at it and he spies Matt seated at one end already waiting for them. 

They settle into their seats and Lance quickly does a round of introductions.  It’s not too hard to keep track of all the names and faces just yet but he suspects by the end of the night, it’s probably going to be a huge blur.  Lance and his fiancé Allura are seated on the other side of Keith and beside Shiro, Matt is tapping away at the table. His sister Katie would have been Shiro’s other choice to have join them at their table but she had opted to stay close to Hunk and her parents so for now, the seat was unoccupied.

“Who’s that woman on the end, oh my god, she’s beautiful,” Matt hisses at him when he finally sits down. Shiro glances down the table and notices Lance’s eyes narrow and he has to resist the urge to kick Matt under the table.

“She’s taken, that’s who,” he hisses back.  “Lance’s fiancé.”

“Oh,” Matt deflates.  “Figures.”

Shiro feels bad for chuckling but it’s not like Matt won’t bounce back from his disappointment quickly.  He’s always been a sucker for a pretty face and Allura’s face is prettier than most.  He wants to snicker when Lance shuffles his seat an inch closer to her and shoots Matt a glare.  Matt promptly huffs then vanishes in the direction of the bar.

The general buzz of the room is loud but pleasant and most of the guests seem to be having a good time. He vaguely notices a small group of somewhat hostile looking women at one of the back tables but he doesn’t recognize any of them so he assumes they’re guests on Keith’s side. 

They sit quietly together for a moment, both taking it all in and it feels good to finally sit down and take a breath. Shiro decides it’s finally time to get to know the man he’s married a little better and hopes that no one else will be listening in too closely.

“So, I guess I should ask what you do for a living?” he says.  “It seems like the sort of thing I should probably know about my husband.”

Keith laughs at that and immediately something in Shiro’s chest loosens.  A waitress comes around the table, topping up their glasses and he decides to be daring and holds his own out for some wine. 

“I’m a paramedic with search and rescue,” Keith says distractedly as the waitress smiles at him and fills his glass too.  “Fly the helicopters sometimes too, that’s the best part.”

“Wooo yeah, baby! Best team on the force!” Lance interjects loudly with a grin and a rather poor attempt at finger guns.   _Ahh, so he is listening in._ Shiro chuckles when Allura throws him an apologetic look and drags Lance’s attention back to her.   

“Oh, and in case it wasn’t clear from that,” Keith jerks a thumb over his shoulder in Lance’s direction, “This idiot is my partner.” 

“Pffft, you love me.”

“You’re both medics and pilots?”  Shiro questions.  He wasn’t sure what he was expecting Keith’s occupation to be (if he was honest, he really hadn’t thought about it at all) but a paramedic wasn’t it. He tries to picture it in his mind but the image won’t quite form.  Lance, on the other hand, he could see it easily enough.  Lance has a warmth behind his played-up goofiness that would lend itself well in a crisis situation and Shiro knew first hand how important that initial response from emergency personnel could be.

A memory of rain on his skin and searchlights in the dark washes over him and for the briefest moment he’s back in that wreckage feeling the wind beating down on him from the helicopters blades and a helmeted figure shouting over the thunder of the storm.  He blinks then it’s gone and somehow knowing that situations like that were Keith’s every day bread and butter makes him feel faintly ill.

He has to swallow back the lump in his throat before he realises Keith is watching him with keen eyes. “Are… are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Shiro assures him shakily.  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Fuck, the last thing he wanted was a nurse.  He wanted an equal, not someone who would feel like they would need to be his caretaker on account of his PTSD from the accident that cost him his arm and scarred his body.  He sees their first hurdle of their marriage looming large in front of them.

Keith considers him for a moment longer before taking Shiro at his word and lifting one shoulder in a half shrug. The message is clear _\- If Shiro doesn’t want to talk about it, Keith isn’t going to force him_ and Shiro releases a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding.

“So, what about you? What do you do?”

Shiro forces a smile. “Well, you’ll probably laugh at this but… I’m a combat flight instructor with the local garrison.”  He holds up his hand and waggles his metal fingers.  His smile is rueful. “You know what they say, those who can’t do… teach.”

“A flight instructor, huh?” Keith’s eyes light up and he chuckles. “At least we won’t run out of things to talk about,” then Keith turns to his side and nudges Lance with his elbow.  “Hey Lance, you hear that? Shiro is a flight instructor.  Maybe he can teach you how to finally stick those landings a little better, huh?”

“That was one time!” Lance huffs dramatically then leans across Keith towards Shiro.  “It was one time, Shiro, don’t let this guy tell you lies-“

Keith laughs at Lance’s indignation and shoves him back into his seat and Shiro can see the playfulness there.  He catches Allura’s eye as the two men start to bicker and raises an eyebrow. 

“Are they always like this?”

She smiles at him and gives a delicate shrug of her shoulders even as she rolls her eyes. “Unfortunately, as long as I’ve known them.  You’ll get used to it,” she says, assuring him.

His attention is then pulled away by Matt who has suddenly reappears with something lethal looking and… apparently on fire that he places in front of Shiro. 

“Brought you some liquid courage,” he smirks and Shiro eyes the drink with trepidation.  Matt leans over his shoulder to pluck a morsel off Shiro’s plate.  “By the way, Shiro, Mom is dying for you to introduce her to Keith. You’d better do it before she matches over here and- oh, too late.”

“Sorry, I tried to stop her,” Katie cringes from beside her mother. Colleen is looking very determined and she eyes Keith brazenly enough it that it makes Shiro slightly nervous. She’s always been protective of her children, even Hunk who could melt anyone, had still had to run the gauntlet to win her over.  He probably should have warned Keith to brace himself to meet her and feels guilty that he didn’t.

“Uh, Keith,” Shiro begins and Keith immediately cuts off his bickering with Lance to turn to him.  Shiro quickly makes the introductions and then he’s immediately charmed when Keith makes a real effort to answer Colleen’s probing questions honestly even though she spends the entire time eyeballing him hard enough to turn him to dust.  When she finally heads back to her table with Katie, Keith breathes a sigh of relief.

“Do you think I passed?” he asks faintly and a shaky, nervous laugh trickles out of him. Shiro’s heart flops a little in his chest at the sound.

“You did great,” Shiro assures him but Keith is frowning and Shiro can see the cogs turning. Colleen certainly acted like the mother figure in his life and it was clear he was close with Matt and Katie.  He glances over to where Colleen is weaving back through the crowd and smiles.

“The Holts are basically my surrogate family,” Shiro explains then and the information settles over Keith enough that his lips make a small ‘oh’ in realisation. “I lost my parents young and my grandfather raised me but he passed away when I was just fresh out of college.”

He’s conscious of trying to present it as simple facts rather than a sob story. The last thing he wants is Keith mistakenly feeling any kind of pity for him but the faraway look in Keith’s eye makes him pause.  He gets the feeling then that their backgrounds might also be something else along with the flying they have in common.

“Yeah, I get that,” Keith says after a moment.  He looks down and fiddles with the cutlery beside his plate.  Shiro doesn’t want to rush him but he’s more curious than ever about this man he’s been paired with. “My mother disappeared when I was little and my dad wasn’t in the picture so my uncles raised me.”

Keith looks up then, glancing quickly around the room until he sees two stern looking men seated ramrod straight at a table in the far corner of the room.  Shiro assumes these are his uncles and then Keith confirms it by waving once in their direction.  Shiro lifts his hand in an awkward half wave too.

“That’s them over there,” he says. “You’ll get to meet them at some point I’m sure.”

“Looking forward to it,” Shiro says although if he admitted it, deep down he felt a little intimidated.  Probably how Keith felt meeting Colleen now that he thinks about it.

“I guess that’s something else we kind of have in common,” Shiro says then and Keith responds with a weak _ding, ding, ding_ to imitate the sound of an old school fairground game and they end up chuckling together.  It’s then that their gazes meet and a rush of warm flows between them.  Yeah, there was no mistaking it.  Keith’s eyes were soft as they studied him and Shiro finds himself trying to fight back a smile before he fails miserably and then they’re bending their heads together and laughing.

They’re both startled when someone in the room picks up a glass and starts tapping their spoon against it.  The sound rings out briefly before suddenly everyone is joining in and there’s a cacophony of noise making it hard to hear anything.

“What are they doing?” Keith looks bewildered and Shiro suspects he looks the same.  They glance helplessly at each other until Lance leans over.

“Kiss! Everyone wants you to kiss, the noise won’t stop until you do,” and he grins and taps his glass a little louder while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh,” Keith murmurs and then the faints smear of pink spreads over his cheeks. He glances at Shiro from under his fringe and Shiro finds himself laughing at the exuberance of their guests. He tries to send Keith a silent question _do you want to? a_ nd Keith nods weakly.  Keith is getting more and more embarrassed the longer the noise goes on, but it’s the opposite for Shiro.  The noise and cheers make him feel emboldened so he tilts Keith’s face up with one finger under Keith’s chin and leans in, brushing his lips over Keith’s ever so gently.

Something inside him rears up and comes alive at the contact between them. His blood roars in his ears loud enough to drown out the noise and then it’s just him kissing his husband with a tenderness that belies the desperate need of his heart.


	5. so glad I came here tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance to our galra girls. I love you all, I swear I do!

Keith is positive the whole world can see just how much Shiro’s kiss has affected him and he ducks his head when Shiro reluctantly lets him go (and he _was_ reluctant, Keith could read it in Shiro’s eyes as clearly as if there were neon lights flashing above his head) to hide the burn of his cheeks.  He gropes for Shiro’s hand nervously and squeezes it, partly as consolation for hiding his face, partly because once again their kiss had shaken his equilibrium and Shiro was the closest thing he could reach for to steady him.

“Wow,” he says for the second time that day and he’s pleased when Shiro laughs and a blush of his own stains his cheeks.  Keith finds a weird kind of consolation in the fact that Shiro seems just as affected by it as he is.  It’s comforting to know he’s not floundering in this sea of attraction all alone.

Shiro clears his throat and picks up his wine glass and when Keith does the same, they chink their glasses together.

“Happy wedding day,” Shiro says with a slight grin as their glasses tap lightly against each other.

“Happy wedding day,” Keith says back and he finds himself smiling warmly at Shiro now that his embarrassment has faded.  The fledging connection between them seems to strengthen a little more. He’s a little in love with the knowledge that from here on in, Shiro and himself are co-conspirators.  A team.  Linked with each other in a way that they won’t be linked to anyone else.  He squeezes Shiro’s hand again and he’s rewarded by a smile that Shiro seems to reserve only for him.  It’s soft and sweet and Keith ends up staring at Shiro’s mouth wondering distractedly when he can kiss him again.

Maybe it has something to do with the wine Keith normally doesn’t drink but he leans deeper into the bond growing between them as their conversation moves in fits and starts, mostly due in part to the continual interruptions from guests who wander to their table to wish them well or demand an introduction.  Keith loses track of all the new faces but he hopes that if this reception is any indication, he will have plenty of chances to learn the names and faces of the people important to Shiro.  Maybe there will be Christmases and birthdays and other events at Shiro’s side and alarm bells begin ring distantly in the back of his mind, screaming out a warning that he’s opening himself up to too much, that he’s going to end up hurt, but he blocks it out.  He promised Shiro he would be open to this experiment and he takes that promise seriously. So far, maybe science got it right after all.

It turns out that Shiro is easy to talk to and the two of them instinctively seem to know which boundaries to push and which to back off.  Keith doesn’t ask him about his scars or his arm, Shiro doesn’t press on subjects Keith hesitates to answer.  Without really meaning to, Keith’s walls crumble in Shiro’s presence.

Lance nudges him at one point and leans over. “Sounds like it’s going well,” he murmurs.  “I like him.”

“Yeah,” Keith whispers back.  “I do too,” and Lance beams at him like he’s god and he just created the universe. Keith groans. 

“You’re going to take credit for this for the rest of my life, aren’t you? I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

“Yup,” Lance leers triumphantly at him.  “You owe me for all eternity.”

“I knew there had to be a catch,” Keith says dryly. 

He’s willing to let Lance have his moment for now, his mood is the lightest it’s been in a very long time.  All those days and nights he spent alone in his small apartment between shifts he had felt like he was barely existing.  The only times he felt truly alive was when he piled into the rescue choppers beside Lance and he could feel the rumble of the machine under his hands as they swung their way to a situation that had someone teetering on the brink of life or death.  It was no secret amongst his colleagues that Keith thought of death as an opponent that could be beaten if he just worked hard enough and he fought it with every skill he had to save the lives.  So far, he was proud to be able to say that he hadn’t lost a single soul on his watch yet. Whenever there was overtime, he was the first one to put his hand up, whenever there were dicey conditions, he was on the front line, his skill as a pilot meaning he could often get to places and through environments that even more experienced paramedics couldn’t.  When he wasn’t on shift, he was working on his skills as a medic or honing his body abseiling or rock climbing, anything that might give him a leg up in his work.

He was good at his job, damn good, but when he went home, his life had been…. Empty.

Lance’s relationship with Allura had also opened his eyes to something he hadn’t known he’d craved.  The two of them shared something inexplicable and Keith could honestly say he’d never seen Lance as happy or as grounded as he had been since he’d met Allura.  Sometimes the light around them was so bright, Keith had to look away.  But for a long time, he hadn’t let himself want it.  He hadn’t let himself imagine what it would be like to have someone to share his life with. Someone to come home to at the end of long, exhausting shift. Not until now.

Shiro tugs his attention back with a brush against his thigh and the smile he gives Keith makes his breath catch in his throat.  Shiro’s eyes are the colour of storms and Keith has a sudden urge to run his fingers through the white strands that sit against his forehead.  He guesses that to be another sign of Shiro’s trauma and his heart turns over at thought of what Shiro must have had to go through.

In that moment, Keith decides that he’s not going to wait for another noisy cacophony from the crowd before he can kiss Shiro again.  They’re husbands now.  They’re going to build a life together.  He’s going to do everything he can to make this marriage work.

Before he can let his nerves stop him, Keith leans in towards Shiro, one hand brushing over Shiro’s jaw and anchoring him gently in place. His hand feels small against Shiro’s cheek but Shiro’s much larger frame just ticks another box in Keith’s book. The height difference between them isn’t as pronounced when they’re sitting down so Keith is able to lean forward easily and plant his lips against Shiro’s own. 

He catches a brief flicker of surprise in Shiro’s eye as he goes in for the kiss but Shiro kisses him back without the slightest hesitation and it sends a little shockwave through him. Keith has to remind himself to keep the kiss chaste on account of the crowd of people surrounding them and for the first time, he’s suddenly thinking about later…. Later when he’ll finally have Shiro alone and then they’ll really be able to see if sparks will fly.

 

* * *

 

Shiro’s wondering how soon he can rope someone into causing another commotion to demand that he kisses Keith again when Keith suddenly cups his cheek and leans in to press his lips against him.  It’s unexpected but he doesn’t hesitate to kiss Keith back and suddenly Shiro’s heart is singing a song full of rainbows and sunshine and grassy fields and all things sweet and lovely. 

Keith initiated that kiss without any help from anyone he realises… Keith took that step all on his own and Shiro can’t help the surge of hopeful emotion climbing up his throat. He lets himself believe it then.  He can believe the experiment will be a success and science has found him his happily ever after.

He’s almost dazed when Keith pulls back and this time he’s the one that utters a breathless _wow._ If anyone in the crowd had noticed the impromptu kiss, they thankfully don’t make a fuss and Shiro’s relived for that. He’s still trying to catch his breath when he notices Keith’s gaze shift and the smile fades from his lips.  

Keith leans back in his seat and it’s as though Shiro can see him stacking up a wall around him brick by brick.  The change is so quick that it leaves Shiro confused but then he looks up and sees the trio of women he saw earlier at the back of the hall approaching their table.

“Are you okay?” he asks Keith. The instant closure that comes over Keith is mildly alarming.  It feels a bit like a door just slammed shut in Shiro’s face and he tries to ignore the niggling voice that reminds him that this is already the second times that this has happened and he’s only known Keith for a few hours.

“Yeah, just… incoming.”

At least it’s not him making Keith shut down so suddenly, he thinks distantly to himself.  He wants to say more but the women are at their table now and the largest one places her hands on the white cloth and leans forward.

“So,” she says to him. “What do you think of our boy here, hmm?”  

She’s got a wide smile that doesn’t reach her eyes and Shiro feels like she should have fangs by the way she bares her teeth at him. He assumes she’s going for _intimidating_ by the way she tries to tower over them and something inside him bristles at the implied threat. Keith answers before he has a chance to collate his thoughts.

“Back off, Zethrid,” Keith says it mildly but Shiro is immediately aware of the tension vibrating off him.

“Aw, we’re just looking out for you, little brother,” another one, the smallest, says. 

This one is slim and lean and moves with a predator’s grace.  Her hair is pulled back from her face in a long flowing ponytail that drapes down her back and she has glitter on her cheeks and the burnt orange tone of her pantsuit makes her eyes appear impossibly blue.  She casually rests one hip against the side of the table and picks up a knife, flipping it over in her hands idly. It’s only a bread knife but Shiro watches her uneasily.

“I can look after myself, Ezor,” Keith replies before Shiro can think to say anything. His tone is biting and hard.  “Been doing it all my life, I don’t need you stepping in now.”

Lance choses that moment to butt in and Shiro’s relieved because if Lance hadn’t stepped in, Shiro was seriously considering. It would probably have been presumptuous but there was something about these women that caused an itch at the back of his neck, something vaguely threatening that had all his senses at high alert.  They’d called Keith _our boy_ and _little brother_ but Keith hadn’t mentioned them earlier when they talked about their families so Shiro couldn’t be sure what their true relationship to his new husband really was. 

“Heyyy, look who it is,” Lance says sarcastically. “The three stooges.”

“Look who it is,” the small one mocks back. “The pretty boy and his princess.”

“You know what Ezor, you can go suck a d-“

Allura clears her throat then and grasps Lance firmly by his hand. “Lance, we should go to the bar and get a drink-”

He’s still glaring at Ezor so Allura pulls on his hand again but he refuses to budge.

“Lance,” Allura snaps it out in a tone that is impossible to ignore and Lance finally, reluctantly, relents.

“Sure, babe, whatever you want,” he says it softly for Allura’s sake but his eyes are still shooting daggers at Ezor. Ezor rolls her eyes and scoffs loudly in his face.

“Whipped,” she sings and makes a rude gesture in Lance’s direction.

“And proud of it,” Lance answers with a confident shrug.  “It’s called love, maybe should try it some time. Oh wait, you’re dead inside so you can’t-“ 

Allura eventually manages to pull Lance away before his exchange with Ezor can escalate further.  Shiro shifts his attention squarely back to Keith who has his jaw tightly clenched tight and his hands curled into subconscious fists on the tablecloth. Shiro moves his hand to rest it on Keith’s knee under the table.  _I’m with you_ he’s trying to say, _for whatever it’s worth._

“So, you going to introduce us or what?” the one Keith called Zethrid says. Keith’s jaw works silently for a beat then he grudgingly jerks his chin at the women.

“Shiro, these are my half-sisters, Zethrid, Ezor and Acxa.”

Shiro shifts his attention to Acxa then, she had yet to say a word, seemingly content to hang back and let the other two do the talking.  Out of the three women, she’s the one that Keith resembles the closest with the same shaped jaw, and the same dark hair.  Her build is probably the closest to Keith’s but that’s where the similarities end.  He inclines his head politely but coolly.

“Ladies.”

They look him over without any subtlety and Shiro has to try very hard not to let anything show in his face.  He guesses they’re looking at his scar, his hair and the metal of his prosthetic arm and tells himself it doesn’t matter what they think or say about it.  If Keith can accept his short falls (and it seems that he has), nothing else matters.

“Well,” Ezor says brightly as she straightens up. “Guess we’ll be seeing you around sometime, Shiro.”

The three of them move away and Shiro finds himself releasing a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. He turns to Keith but before Shiro can even blink, Keith is standing abruptly and knocking his chair away as he marches around the table and slips through the doorway outside.

 

* * *

 

It’s dark outside now, the sun having set while they were inside with their guests and Keith has never been more grateful for the darkness.  He’s unexplainably angry, furious at the way his half sisters seem to want to stir up trouble wherever they go.  It was bad enough the bickering between Ezor and Lance in front of Shiro made Keith wish the floor would open up and swallow him whole.  He didn’t want Shiro to see that, he didn’t even want Shiro to meet those women before he at least had a chance to brace him for it. 

What were they even doing here? No one had told him they would be there today and he certainly doesn’t remember the organisers requesting their details to send them an invitation.  He hated how off guard they’d caught him.  Hated it.

He’s gripping the edge of the veranda’s balcony tightly, trying to calm himself when he feels another presence behind him.  Expecting it to be one of his sisters, he whirls around ready to snarl only to immediately deflate when he realises it’s Shiro. 

“Are you alright? You disappeared so quickly,”  Shiro asks quietly.  He takes a step closer to Keith but doesn’t come close enough to impact Keith’s personal space. 

“I’m sorry,” Keith says then, and he honestly means it. He’s sorry Shiro had to see that, he’s sorry he subjected Shiro to that kind of unwelcome energy. He wonders briefly if this is something that is going to send Shiro running in the opposite direction and desperately hopes it’s not. “I’m sorry you had to see that.  My sisters…. We’re not close-“

“It’s fine, Keith. I get it, families aren’t perfect.” This time Shiro does step closer. Close enough to reach out and touch Keith if he wanted to. But he doesn’t.

Keith tries not to be bothered by that.  It’s early days yet.  Shiro and himself aren’t at the point where there is that easy kind of intimacy between them yet.  Maybe one day they will be. Keith really hopes so.  He sighs then and turns, leaning back against the railing and crossing his arms.  He looks down, unable to meet Shiro’s eyes.

“I guess I should explain.”

“Only if you want to,” Shiro shrugs then moves closer again.  He takes a spot beside Keith on the balcony railing and leans back against it like Keith is. Keith can’t help but notice the lack of space between their hips. Shiro could have stood anywhere but he’s moved close enough for Keith to touch him and it sends a pathetic little tumble of relief through him.

“I want to,” he says.  He takes a deep breath then starts to explain.  “They’re my half-sisters but they didn’t find me until recently. Most of my life I didn’t even know they existed. Apparently my dear, old dad had an entire other family my mother probably didn’t know about. They’re…. well, there’s tension there because I think they’re into some shady stuff but I have no proof.”

“Lance didn’t seem to think much of them,” Shiro comments.

“He can’t stand them.  He’s convinced they’re running drugs or something for the local cartels but,” he shrugs. “Like I said, no proof.” 

He pushes away from the railing then with a rough growl and threads his hands through his hair in agitation. “I wasn’t expecting them to be here tonight!”  He’s suddenly embarrassed at the way it blurts out of him.

“Probably Lotor,” Shiro shrugs then.  To his credit, he seems unbothered by Keith’s outburst. “I get the feeling ‘manufactured drama’ might be that guy’s middle name.”

“I don’t like being blindsided like that.”

“Well, the hard part is over, maybe we can just ignore them for the rest of the night and go have a good time.”

It’s not lost on Keith that Shiro says _we_.  Maybe he didn’t mean it the way Keith thought but he likes the way it sounds.  The angry creature behind Keith’s breastbone that had been spoiling for a fight abruptly stands down.  Shiro straightens and holds his hand out to Keith as he smiles.  “Ready to go back to our party?”

Keith stares at his out stretched hand for a heartbeat then he takes it.  Shiro’s hand is so warm and strong he grips it like lifeline.  “Hey,” he says then.  “Can I introduce you to my real family? My uncles that raised me?”

Shiro sends him a smile so warm it makes his heart stutter.  “I’d like that.”


	6. head first, and no regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The speeches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UHGGGHHHAGGHGJADKL speeches are hard

Keith’s uncles are two tall, imposing men with serious faces dressed almost entirely in dark, well cut suits.  Despite clearly being firmly middle aged, they’re both well built and fit, showing anyone that cared to spare them a second glance that they weren’t to be trifled with. Even without the introductions and not knowing Keith for more than a few hours, Shiro could glean where Keith got some of his reserved nature from.  There is a stillness about them, a closed off but not quite hostile countenance that told Shiro that this was a family that would quickly and fiercely close ranks around each other at the slightest provocation.

He aimed _not_ to be one of those provocations.

Out of the two men, Thace is the one that warms to Shiro the quickest but even that is a process as slow as molasses. They aren’t outright unfriendly towards him but they were certainly distant and mildly calculating.  It wasn’t lost on Shiro how their eyes flicked rapidly from himself to Keith and back again as though taking note and assessing every motion and every word exchanged between the new husbands. It made him step a little closer to Keith, not out of any unease, but to show them that he _wanted_ Keith. That Keith’s heart would be safe with him.

The subtle message in his body language seemed to get through because Thace tilts his head at him and something that could be the tiniest beginning of a smile lines his mouth.

“Shiro, I trust that you’ll do right by our nephew here,” Thace says as he reaches out to shake Shiro’s hand. 

“I will, sir,” Shiro says, grasping Thace’s hand confidently and shaking it. Thace’s glance flicks to Shiro’s hand then away again but he doesn’t probe and Shiro doesn’t offer. Shiro’s hedging his bets but by the way Thace carries himself, Shiro suspects the man has a military background.  Probably garrison if Shiro guesses correctly.

“Ah,” Thace chuckles knowingly deep in his chest and Shiro’s gamble seemingly pays off.  “A fellow solider, I see. Although, it’s been a while now.”

“For me too,” Shiro says as they release hands.  “At least in active service.  I just teach the rookies how to fly in combat simulators over at the garrison now.”

“A pilot?” Thace asks and his gaze slides to Keith, one eyebrow raised high.  “Well, at least you have that in common if nothing else.”

Shiro chuckles at that and sends Keith a warm glance. “That’s what Keith said too.”

Keith gives him a soft smile back and then Keith’s second uncle, Kolivan, lumbers a little bit closer.  Kolivan is broader than Thace, silver hair pulled back from his face and woven into a long braid that spills down over one shoulder.  Unlike Thace, there’s not even a hint of a smile from him but he shakes Shiro’s hand with a firm grip.

“I wasn’t supportive of this union when Keith initially told us what he was planning,” he says, his voice rough and deep, “but now that I see you together-“

Kolivan doesn’t finish the thought but he doesn’t need to.

If the connection Shiro was building with Keith hadn’t been as strong as he felt it to be, Shiro might have been concerned that Keith’s uncles would be secretly planning to drag him out the back of the building and dispose of him with nothing but their bare hands.

They don’t get to talk much before Shiro spies Lotor hovering close by and he sighs inwardly as he makes his excuses.  He knows Lotor isn’t going to leave him alone until he gets another interview so he shrugs apologetically and leaves Keith to mingle again with their guests. 

“I’ve got a marriage to celebrate, Lotor. Let’s make this quick.”

“Shiro, as you know, this is to check in and collate your experiences of the day, this time without your new husband dictating your answers.”

Shiro frowns a little at that.  Their earlier interview in the gardens had Keith taking the lead but now it made Shiro wonder what it left him open to now.  He also briefly wonders what Keith’s solo answers to Lotor’s probing questions might have be then quickly pushes the thought out of his mind.

There are some things he’s probably better off not knowing at this point in time.

“The reception is now well under way and you’ve had some time alone with your new spouse - What are your first impressions of him so far?”

They’re standing in a small alcove to the side of the main bar where they can see the guests mingling around the tables but the guests can’t really seem them.  Shiro feels his eyes being drawn to Keith, easy to spot in the crowd in his rich burgundy suit, a small white flower at his lapel as he’s shaking hands and talking with some of the guests. Shiro finds himself watching curiously as Hunk wanders over to Keith with a couple of hors d'oeuvre and holds them up to his face like eyes.  The unique greeting has Keith cracking up and something swells and flips in Shiro’s chest at the sight. 

“He’s…. he’s amazing,” Shiro says honestly. He can’t take his eyes off Keith and once again, a surprisingly powerful blush of desire washes over him. He’s fairly confident that Keith is attracted to him too but if by some reason Shiro is wrong in his assumption… well, that’s going to be hard for him to come to terms with.

“Hmm, no reservations then,” Lotor probes and it takes a superhuman effort from Shiro to drag his eyes away from his husband – _his husband!_ – and back to the experiment’s co-ordinator.  Lotor hadn’t been involved in the selection process as far as Shiro was aware but he was responsible for it all coming together the way it has.  A part of him wonders what it is that Lotor is seeing developing between them with his front row seat to their relationship.

“Well, it’s early days yet,” Shiro says cautiously. He’s only known Keith for what… a grand total of four hours? “But so far so good.”

Lotor murmurs something noncommittal and continues to make notes on his tablet.  Abruptly, Shiro doesn’t care about answering any more personal questions, he just wants to go back to Keith’s side.  He’s thinking of a way to come up with a plausible excuse to leave when he’s startled by Lance appearing out of nowhere. The younger man fawns over Shiro, stumbling into him so hard that Shiro has to catch him from toppling over.  It thoroughly interrupts the interview, much to Lotor’s disgust.

“Shirriioooo,” Lance tugs on Shiro’s suit jacket sleeve and starts pulling him away but then hiccups loudly and stumbles again.  Shiro move to grab him before he can end up face down on the floor then he hears Lance hiss _go with it!_ under his breath and Shiro needs to bite his lip to keep the realisation of what’s happening off his face.   

“Look, this is going to have to wait for later, Lotor,” he says seriously.  He makes a show of looking down at Lance in dismay who’s got his head hanging low and eyes squeezed shut as though he’s about to lose the contents of his stomach.  Shiro finds himself hoping that Lance isn’t _that_ good of an actor to actually barf. “I think Lance needs some help-“

Before Lotor has the opportunity to respond, Shiro is helping Lance stagger away.  As soon as they’re out of Lotor’s sight, Lance straightens up and dusts off his suit with a self-satisfied grin.

“Nice save,” Shiro laughs.  “I owe you one.”

“Man, I hate that guy. Anything to make his life more difficult then I’m there.”

“Thanks,” Shiro says again.  Lance grins at him and then he’s heaving on Shiro’s arm again.

“Don’t thank me yet, it’s razzle dazzle time!”

“It’s… what?”

Lance smirks. “Time for the speeches.”

They all make it back to their table to retake their seats and before Shiro realises it, Lance is holding a microphone.  Shiro glances at Keith to find Keith with a slightly pained expression on his face and he knows instinctively that Lance’s speech is probably going to be a wild ride. He reaches for Keith’s hand and links their fingers together in solidarity.  Keith shoots him a bemused look and his grip on Shiro tightens.

 _A united front._   There’s those words again, Shiro thinks.

“Is this thing on?” Lance taps it and there’s a scuffling sound over the speakers. Lance stands and a hush falls over the room as he begins to speak.

“Nice, okay.  Okay everyone, thanks for being here tonight.  I’m Lance and I’m Keith’s best friend.  Hmm, now, where do I start?”

Lance taps his chin thoughtfully.  “Ah, well, let me start with this: wise beyond his years, dashingly handsome, full of charm, generous… a man whom many people here admire and adore-“ Lance pauses dramatically. “But enough about me, I’m here to talk about Keith!”

Keith snorts as some of the guests chuckle.  Lance warms up, clearly enjoying the spotlight.  He makes a few gags and that soon has the guests laughing loudly.  “You have got no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to today, after all this time I’ve been friends with Keith, he has at long last admitted what we have all known to be true for a long time… that I am in fact, the _best_ man.

“Now, Keith is like a brother to me and I wanted to have the chance to say to his brand-new husband who we’ve only met today-“ Lance turns to face Shiro directly.  “Shiro… Please take good care of Keith. He can be a little headstrong and a little fiery at times, and he doesn’t function too well without a hundred cups of coffee, but he’s also dependable and the most loyal person I know.  He is someone who you can trust to always have your back.”

Shiro isn’t sure but it feels like Keith is trying to sink deeper into his seat. His cheeks are definitely pink. “Shiro, this part is important,” Lance continues, a very serious expression sliding over his face.  Shiro sits up to attention. “If you make him cook his own food, there is no way that he will last the month. “ 

Keith groans at that, leaning one elbow on the table and hiding his face behind his hand. It makes Shiro laugh and he says to smartly to Lance, “duly noted.”  Lance grins but then his expression changes slightly.

“Now the really serious stuff. So, we’re all here tonight to celebrate this journey you have both decided to undertake together, even without knowing a thing about each other.  That takes guts, man, it really does. But remember that now, all your joys will now be magnified by two because now you can share them together. All your trials and tribulations have now been halved - because you can now solve them together. In marriage, you promise to care about everything. The good things, the bad things and the mundane. You promise each other that life will not go unwitnessed, because you will witness it with each other. So… Shiro and Keith...this is just the beginning. The best is yet to come."

Lance raises his glass and toasts them and when he sits down, Keith grudgingly pulls him into an awkward one-armed hug.  When they pull apart, Keith’s eyes look suspiciously wet and Shiro feels his heart swell with affection. From what he’d seen of Lance so far, he liked him a lot and he was touched by the obvious love he has for Keith. 

“Thanks, Lance,” Shiro manages to say quietly.  Lance flashes him a smile then punches Keith playfully light on his shoulder.

“I’m happy for you guys, I want this to work.  I want you guys around together when Lancey Lance Jr takes his first steps.”

Keith looks at Shiro and shakes his head with mock mournfulness as he explains.  “Number one, there is no Lancey Lance Jr-“

“Yet!”

“and number two - No, he just wants to be able to lord this over me… us… for the rest of our lives,” and then he chuckles.

“Pfft, well, yeah. That too,” Lance snickers then he’s leaning over to hand the microphone over to Matt.

That’s the moment when it happens. It seems to smack them both in their face at the same time. 

_The rest of their lives._

That’s potentially what they could be looking at.  Keith stares at him, his jaw working silently for a heartbeat. Shiro’s not doing much better but Shiro seems to recover first and they settle in for the next speech.  Shiro clasps Keith’s hand again and shoots him a reassuring smile.  The one Keith returns him is watery but it’s there.

Then Matt stands up and a bunch of butterflies take flight in his stomach.  Even Matt placing his hand on Shiro’s shoulder and smiling down at him fondly doesn’t quite quell the nerves.  He really hopes Matt doesn’t mortify him too much.  It makes him oddly panicky that Keith might not like what he hears - after all, he still wants to impress.  All he learned from Lance’s speech was that there was so much about Keith he couldn’t wait to learn more about… and that Keith will be so incredibly easy to fall in love with.

When he swallows thickly, Keith gives his palm a squeeze and leans into him under the pretence of getting a better view of Matt down the table.  He catches the scent of Keith’s hair when he leans close and it makes his body react in a primeval way, skittering over his limbs and making his veins hot.  He has to blink to bring himself back to the present and focus on Matt’s words.

“So, where do I start with Shiro?” Matt says casually. “Well, for starters, he’s pretty handsome-“

Someone in the crowd hoots loudly and Shiro gives them an embarrassed wave.  “Uh, thanks, your payment is at the bar,” he jokes and Matt waits with a wide grin for the mirth to fade before he continues.

“He’s witty, intelligent, char-… sorry, Shiro, I’m having trouble reading your handwriting, can you tell me the rest later?”

The crowd laughs again and Shiro can feel his cheeks heat with a blush. 

“In all seriousness, there is so much I can tell you about Shiro but Keith, you’re going to find out soon enough.  You’re going to find out the kind of man Shiro is but... here’s the basics of it:  Shiro is… Shiro is someone that would give his life for the people around him.  In fact, he almost did.”

Matt’s eyes close and he has to gather himself before he continues. The hush that falls over the room makes Shiro’s chest feels tight. He can’t bring himself to look at Keith, even as his heart races nervously behind his ribs but Keith is gripping his hand as though he’s holding on for dear life and it feels so easy to take comfort in that.

“Keith, if you let him, Shiro will be your port in the storm… your soft place to land when life gets rough, and at some point, it will. But since I only know useless things like the weight and rotations of a neutron star and the impact of quantum fluctuations and absolutely nothing about being married, I asked my father, the esteemed Commander Holt, what he thinks makes a good marriage and he said this:  Marriage isn’t about looking at each other, it’s about looking in the same direction.  So as long as you’re doing that, then you’ll be off to a good start.”

A small round of applause breaks out and Matt waves it away. Even his cheeks are red by this stage.  “Since my folks have been married for as long as I’ve known then, I figure he must be doing something right,” Matt winks. “Keith and Shiro, this is just the beginning for you both but I have every confidence that science has got this right so…”

Matt raises his glass and makes a toast and the guests join in. Shiro has to take a second to compose himself but he doesn’t get long before Matt yanks him into a hug then hands him the microphone with a big smile.  Shiro has to release Keith’s hand to take it and he misses that contact with Keith instantly, especially when he realises it’s his turn to stand and speak and his knees feel surprisingly shaky.

He clears his throat as he takes in the faces of the assembled guests.  Some of them are already dear to him, some of them he hoped he will have the opportunity to get to know better, and some of them like Keith’s half-sisters he was reserving judgement on.  Speaking in front of a crowd wasn’t something he was a stranger to or particularly bothered by, but speaking in front of a crowd when it involved putting his heart on the line was new.  He was already emotional from Lance and Matt’s speeches and he can only hope that he doesn’t humiliate himself too much.

“Thanks Matt, that was…” he looks at Matt and smiles.  “That was great. Okay, well, first off, I want to promise you all that I won’t bore you all with the story of how Keith and I first met, since I’m sure you’ve all heard that story a hundred times before-“

There’s a few loud groans but it’s mostly laughter from the guests that rings out.  He overhears Lance cackle and hoot at Keith “Oh, I _like_ him!” and he struggles to hold back an embarrassed laugh of his own.

_Okay, so that was lame but it could have been worse._

“Alright, but all jokes aside, I want to thank everyone for coming today, because… well, you didn’t have to come here to support this crazy venture of ours.  You didn’t have to come today to witness me put my life in the hands of science and marry a complete stranger but I’m glad you did.  And Keith,”

Shiro’s voice cracks slightly saying Keith’s name and he doesn’t bother trying to hide it.  He looks down at his new husband and it makes him feels strangely displaced. Logic tells him he shouldn’t be feeling this comfortable in this stage of their fledgling relationship. It should be more awkward, not quite so easy to spill what’s been hiding inside him for so long but as he catches Keith’s eye, it just feels like something he’s done a hundred times before in a hundred other lifetimes.  “I haven’t had much of a chance to say this to you before now and I know we’ve only known each other for a grand total of-“  Shiro mimes checking the time on his wrist- “six hours? But… I’m glad.  I’m glad it’s you that science has matched me with and I think together… Well, I have a good feeling so far.”

The crowd seems to love that and there’s more applause, a few _aw’s_ and Allura wipes a tear from her cheek and leans in against Lance’s shoulder. He responds with a kiss to her temple and his fingers tangle in her hair as he nods encouragingly at Shiro.  The love and affection between them is visible for everyone to see and Shiro wants that.  He wants that with _Keith._

He rounds off his speech with another toast, this time for hope for the future and by this stage his champagne glass is starting to look rather empty.  A warm buzz fills him but whether its just from the warm of the speeches or the alcohol he’s not sure. He opts to blame it on the speeches.

He goes to take his seat again just as someone yells something about the honeymoon and Shiro laughs with embarrassment. “Easy tiger,” he mutters playfully into the mic and then there’s more hooting and clamouring. Even Keith is hiding his face behind his hands over that.

He’s about to hand the mic back over to Lance but before Lance monopolise the floor again, Keith pulls his hands away from his face determinedly and yanks the microphone to himself.  He grips it hard and his face goes sharply focused, as though he’s about to march into battle.  Then he stands and blinks at the mic in his hands. Shiro is surprised too, he hadn’t expected Keith would want to make a speech.

“Okay, I need to say something too,” Keith says, looking down at the table and pausing for a moment to take a deep breath.  His suit jacket is unbuttoned and that gives Shiro a glimpse of the narrowness of his hips. Keith isn’t tall but his legs are long and the hands holding the microphone are firm and wiry. Shiro has to hold his breath as Keith turns to him, his gaze intense and serious but somehow warm and intimate too. 

“I’m glad it’s you too,” he says directly to Shiro, their eyes locking together then everything else seems to fade away and it’s the two of them alone together in that room. Keith’s voice trembles. “I didn’t know what to expect when they told me they’d found the perfect man but… I’ve never wanted perfect, I don’t care about perfect.  I just want perfect for _me_.”  Keith pauses to visibly swallow and Shiro can’t control the way some of the outer shell of his heart cracks. Emotion he’s not sure he can describe starts to leak out of him and he’s faintly overwhelmed. Keith smiles at him, and it’s _radiant._  “I don’t know where this crazy experiment is going to take us, but I… I’m really looking forward to finding out with you.”

There’s a breathless heartbeat as they just stare at each other before the world crashes back in on them. Keith blinks and sits down heavily, shoving the mic back at Lance.

Shiro can’t hold himself back for a moment more. He cups Keith face in his hands and kisses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonus points if you caught the shenko call back :)


	7. nothing ever mattered to me more than this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wedding dance

If Keith thought the wedding ceremony itself was going to be the most stressful and emotional part of the day, he was dead wrong.

The speeches almost undid him then Shiro’s kiss virtually made him self-combust right there at the table. He desperately needed a moment to breathe so once the formalities of the speeches were over, he sent Lance an SOS and the two of them hurried away from the table and to a quiet place at the end of the bar.

“Holy shit,” Keith has to say, dragging his hands through his hair.  He’d discarded his bow tie earlier, finding it too constrictive around his throat when he was trying to suck in enough breaths to keep himself relatively calm.

Lance raises an eyebrow and beckons to a bartender to order two drinks.  He doesn’t say anything when he nudges a glass towards Keith.  Keith gives him a look.

“Really?” he frowns.  “I don’t think the five glasses of champagne were enough.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “It’s water, you idiot. Jeez, how drunk are you? You must be buzzing since you _actually_ got up and gave a speech.”

“I can’t believe I did that.”

“I can’t believe you married a complete stranger today,” Lance says cheerfully.  “At one point I really thought you were going to bolt and leave Shiro at the altar.”

Keith has the sudden urge to lay his head down against the bar. It actually looks really inviting, although he’d probably get a few strange looks.  Or more strange looks.  Was it possible for anyone to look at him any stranger when he has to explain to them he met his husband for the first time at the altar? And that he’d instantly developed some overblown crush on said husband within moments of meeting him? That he was terrified of getting too close to his husband, let alone kissing him again, because with every contact between them, Keith could feel himself falling into the abyss so deep he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to climb out of it.

Holy hell, this was all getting too much.  He couldn’t make his thoughts line up.  One moment he was giddy with relief that he’d been paired with such an obvious…. well, _catch_ , the next moment he feels like he needs to tackle Lance for his car keys and drive as far away as possible.  He settles for rubbing his face tiredly instead.

“I feel like I need to get out of here.”

“Look,” Lance says at his side as he leans casually against the bar. “I’d offer to go get the car and meet you out the front but I actually really like Shiro from what I’ve seen of him so far.  The guy’s a military pilot! He teaches aerial _combat_ of all things… how cool is that?!  He’s like… my hero.”

“Hey,” Keith protests weakly.  “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

But Lance’s words send a huge bloom of warmth through his chest.  He can’t help but feel a tiny flush of pride at Lance’s admiration, which was dumb, he reminded himself.  He’d only met the man today, not like he could take any credit for Shiro’s successes.  He sighs and decides he should probably drink more water.  “No, I mean… I just need some time to regroup. Before we have to do all the other stuff. First dance and all that-”

“Oh,” Lance puts down his glass.  “Why didn’t you say so?  That’s something I can help with. The only question is…” Lance narrows his eyes at him and his next question feels like a test.  “Do you want your new husband to escape too?”

“Well, yeah,” Keith doesn’t even have to think about that and he’s mildly offended that Lance would think he wouldn’t. “I’m not going to leave him to face all this on his own,” and he waves vaguely in the direction of the reception.  Lance is nodding his head in approval. 

“Then follow me.”

 

* * *

 

Keith isn’t sure how Lance manages it, but somehow, he’s able to liberate Shiro from the clutches of a rather touchy feely guest he doesn’t know and before long, they’re slipping out of the reception and back into the extensive gardens of the manor. Lance leads them down one of the paths with nothing but the moonlight to guide them and the further they travel, the more the revelry of the reception fades until there’s nothing but the quiet sounds of the night. 

With each step into the darkness, Keith feels a calmness settle over him.  He slows his pace slightly and beside him, Shiro slows to match him.  The silence between them feels a little heavy but when his hand brushes against Shiro, he debates for less than a second whether or not to take it. It feels strangely intimate to be holding Shiro’s hand in the moonshine, the scent of the gardens lingering in the air and filling his lungs with fragrance. He almost takes it further to stop Shiro on the path and kiss him without a hundred pairs of eyes watching them but he doesn’t get the chance before they hear Lance announce them and a warm golden glow appears through the foliage.

The path ends in a short set of stairs and opens up to a wide paved area with a circular bench filled with plush cushions, all nestled around a brightly burning fire pit.  They aren’t the first ones to arrive and Keith realises that along with Allura, there waiting for them are Shiro’s friends Hunk and Katie.  They seem like they’ve made themselves comfortable, Katie at Hunk’s side, looking ridiculously tiny in Hunk’s suit jacket with his orange tie now tied around her forehead and Hunk has his sleeves rolled up, a basket at his feet as he’s holding a stick into the fire.

“Welcome, gentleman, to our secret abode,” Lance bows then trots over to give Allura a kiss, running a hand through her platinum tresses lovingly before he takes a seat beside her.  She curls into his side even as she smiles at Keith and Shiro.

“Hunk has been sharing stories of the mischief he and Lance got up to as children,” she says.

“Very entertaining,” Katie chuckles.

“Whatever he’s told you, I’m sure it’s lies,” Lance assures them.  “I was nothing but an angel as a child.”

Keith snorts at that.  “A likely story,” he says and Lance sniffs. 

“You keep quiet or you can go back to the reception,” Lance threatens.  Keith and Shiro share a glance then Shiro shrugs lightly. 

“I’d rather be here then back there,” Shiro says as he steps around the circular bench to take a seat and nestle into the cushions.  He tugs Keith after him and the motion is so strangely propriety that in any other circumstances it would have made Keith bristle and snatch his hand away.  Instead he slides into place beside Shiro, close enough that their thighs press together, hands still linked and he realises that with the six of them, they’re all paired off into couples.

He’s never been part of a couple before.  Keith is often the third wheel with Lance and Allura’s plans otherwise he’s usually on his own.  He’s cool with that, he’s used to being alone but this… this is actually kind of nice. He’s not sure if he should let himself get used to it.

“I didn’t give much thought as to how much work was involved in a wedding,” Shiro chuckles then.  “I thought the ceremony would be the hard part.”

“Yeah,” Keith agrees.  “Stand here, do this, say that… ugh. I’m tired.”

“You guys haven’t even done the cake or the first dance yet!” Katie exclaims.  She shakes her head in sympathy. 

Keith wants to groan at the thought.  A wave of fatigue hits him.  It’s been a long day and he almost wishes it could be over so that Shiro and himself can just get on with living their lives and seeing if they really are as well suited as the scientists and their initial connection promises.

But before that they still have to get through the rest of tonight… and then the honeymoon.

Until now, he had steadfastly refused to let him think about the honeymoon.  As was the wedding itself, the honeymoon was 100% arranged by the people running the experiment and very little information was given to them ahead of time.  As far as Keith knew, it would be somewhere warm since that’s the sort of clothes he had been dictated to pack but that’s it. 

In any other life, two weeks alone with a stranger sharing the same air, the same room, the same _bed_ would have been enough to give him hives.  Luckily, so far he was very intrigued by Shiro.  It didn’t sound like it would be a hardship at all to spend some quality time with him somewhere romantic.

“Allura, maybe we should just elope, find a nice beach somewhere, just the two of us…”

Allura laughs softly, her dark fingers tracing little patterns over Lance’s hand where she’s holding it in her lap.  Lance turns to her with such adoration Keith has to look away.  “Your mother would kill you,” she says.

“Huh, true. But we could just invite everyone on the honeymoon and have a big party on the beach and-“

“That’s not an elopement,” Katie informs him. “That’s just a wedding on the beach.”

“And, as much as I love your family, Lance… I do _not_ want them on our honeymoon.”

“You want me all to yourself, eh?” he waggles his eyebrows at her playfully and delivers a ridiculously cheesy pick up line that makes everyone groan.  Thankfully Allura shuts him up by kissing him.

“Speaking of honeymoons,” Hunk pipes up.  “Where are you guys going for yours?”

Keith is hit with a weird sense of displacement at the utterly casual way Hunk asks the question and it throws him momentarily.  It’s like… it’s like he and Shiro have been a couple for years instead of hours.  It almost makes him dizzy.  Maybe he’s still too buzzed, he thinks.

Shiro glances down at Keith before he answers. “Actually, we have no idea.  Somewhere tropical I’m assuming though.”

Hunk frowns and his gaze zeroes in on Shiro’s metallic hand.  “Sand might be an issue for that,” he sounds worried but Shiro shakes his head.  Before Shiro can answer properly, a figure materialises out of the darkness smoothly enough that they all startle.  Lance recovers first.

“You again? Anyone ever tell you you’re like a bad smell?” he snaps.  Ezor rolls her eyes. 

“No, but I’m sure they’ve told _you_ that plenty of times.”

Lance makes a show of sniffing himself. “Nope. Fresh as a daisy.”

She deliberately turns her back on him to face Keith where he sits with Shiro.  Her eyes land on their joined hands and she lets out an “Awww, how sweet,” but it’s faintly mocking and Keith has to struggle not to growl at her.

“What do you want, Ezor?” he says.  He tries to sound bored.

“Well, it seems everyone is waiting on the grooms to cut the cake and get the dancing started so…. Get your ass back in there, little brother.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro eyes the elaborate cake. It’s three tiers high, thick white icing roped with a mass of fresh flowers in deep red, white and violet.  On the top of the cake stands two small figurines, two men in suits side by side.  Keith stares at them with narrowed eyes, then up at Shiro and back to the cake.

He has to hold back his surprised laughter when Keith places a lean fingertip on the head of one of the figurines and pushes it determinedly until the little man sinks deeper into the cake. It’s certainly a better representation of their substantial height differences but somehow, it’s the way that Keith did it with such purpose that made Shiro want to crack up.  He got the impression that when Keith’s mind was set on something, it was probably best to just get out of his way and it’s another clue to the man he’s married that he can’t wait to explore further.

The crazy photographer from earlier shows up again and he urges them to move closer together behind the cake and pose. Shiro takes a step nearer to Keith and rests his hands lightly on Keith’s narrow hips from behind. Keith is so warm, his back against Shiro’s chest and once again, there’s that sharp, unmistakable sizzle of attraction that heats Shiro deep in his core. He tries to think of something boring in case his body betrays him, because standing like this with Keith so close… He wouldn’t be able to hide it.

Shiro is fairly confident they seemed to have nailed the physical attraction side of the experiment, but a marriage isn’t built on attraction alone.  He has to swallow as he reminds himself that they needed to go slow.

They pose with the cake as the photographer wants and then Keith picks up the cake knife and flips it absently over one of his knuckles before deftly catching it.  He holds it against the cake, his hand hovering and then glances up at Shiro from under his dark hair. 

“Help me?” he murmurs and the husky sound of his voice makes something quiver inside him. He nods then his metal hand is closing over Keith’s and they cut into the cake together as a multitude of flashes go off.  No sooner had that task been completed, they’re shuffled onto the dancefloor and someone on the microphone announces it’s time for their first dance.

Shiro can feel his cheeks heat as once again, a hundred pairs of eyes swing around to focus on them alone.  He reaches for Keith’s hand where they stand alone in the middle of the makeshift dancefloor, the lights slowly diming around them and the audience watching them hushes.

“Can you dance?” Shiro asks Keith and he shrugs. 

“Guess we’re about to find out.”

Shiro twines their hands together and slips one arm around Keith’s waist, daring to slide it under Keith’s unbuttoned suit jacket to rest it against the small of his back. He’s not sure if he’s imagining it, but he swears he can feel a slight tremble to Keith’s body, and he’s tense as they shift together. It takes a few moments to find their rhythm but they’re soon shuffling together in a shallow box step under a string of lights. Gradually, Keith’s head drifts to Shiro’s shoulder as they sway to the music and Shiro has to steady his breathing, suddenly overwhelmed at the swell of affection for his new husband that blooms inside his chest.  His lips twitch with a smile and then his eyes drift closed and he rests a cheek against Keith’s hair.

Of all the outcomes he’d hoped for today, standing here like this, _feeling_ like this, it was everything he’d wanted in his heart of hearts but was afraid to admit to even himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please come talk to me about this/sheith if you want to!? flashedarrow.tumblr.com


	8. you know that i'm never gonna let you go

Keith tries to ignore all the eyes on them as they dance.  He’s sure his face is burning for the hundredth time that day and even though by now he should be accustomed to it, he can’t help but take advantage of his new husband’s wide chest to partially hide his face. 

Yeah, it’s kind of cowardly but he feels rubbed raw from the exposure today. For someone who usually keeps his cards close to his chest, to have everything laid so bare was exhausting.

He concentrates on the steady thump of Shiro’s heart under his cheek as they dance and the beat is strong and soothing. Shiro holds him like he’s something precious and that alone settles his heart even if it makes something inside him want to break down.  All those protective walls he’d spent years building and reinforcing are proving to be no match for the way Shiro rests his head against Keith’s hair and draws Keith in closer to his chest.

God, but he could get used to this.

Thankfully, it’s not long before they are joined on the dancefloor by Lance and Allura. Keith shoots Lance a grateful look and Lance winks but then Lance’s attention turns solely to his fiancé.  He looks at Allura as though she’s just hung all the stars in the sky and his smile is soft and loving. She says something quietly in his ear and he laughs then gently dips her and gives her a kiss before pulling her back up and folding his arms tightly around her. There’s no fancy footwork from Lance tonight, he’s just holding the woman he loves like he never wants to let her go. They sway together as the music plays and once again Keith is struck by the aura of affection that seems to radiate from them. 

It won’t be long until Lance and Allura’s own wedding and Keith is looking forward to that.  Maybe it’s still the buzz from the champagne still in his system but he’s feeling soft and indulgent.  He’s looking forward to it being his two closest friends turn to tie the knot, looking forward to the time when the focus of the would be but set squarely on Lance where it belonged. 

Keith’s mind starts to meander bravely through the months ahead, imagining himself sharing his life with Shiro.  Would Shiro come with him to Lance and Allura’s wedding?  Would Shiro dance with him again? Would they be settled into a life together or would the experiment end up being a bust? 

They bump along together as the music swells.  More of their guests join them on the dance floor, even Hunk and Katie, their dance style more of a prolonged hug than a dance.  Katie has given Hunk back his jacket but she still has his tie around her head as a headband and her eyes are shining as they look at each other.  Keith finds himself looking forward to getting to know them better as his relationship progresses, and he tries not to read into the fact that Hunk and Lance are childhood friends.  If he was more fanciful, he would almost think that it was a sign from the universe that Shiro and his lives were destined to be interlinked somehow.

A new song starts, they’re pulled apart, new partners cutting in and whisking them away separately.  Allura seizes on Shiro immediately and Keith lets go with a small grumble when Shiro’s hand leaves his but he doesn’t have a chance to complain further because then Katie is tugging him another direction.

Keith very quickly realises that despite Katie’s small size, she is a powerhouse.  She has no qualms about leading their dance and Keith has no interest in fighting her for it.  She guides them determinedly around the floor with a set line to her lips and she’s looking at him as though she wants to dissect him in a lab. 

“Okay, out with it,” he says with resignation. There’s something coming, he can feel it.  He’s going to be scrutinized no matter what today, especially by the people closest to Shiro.  He can only hope that he doesn’t come up too lacking.

“He likes you,” Katie informs him sharply, and he catches the very faint warning under her words. 

_Don’t break his heart or I’ll come for you._

There’s a version of him that would bristle at her tone, that would immediately step up to the plate and challenge her implication but he couldn’t find it in him tonight. He didn’t want to anyway.  He was aware that Shiro was very publicly laying his heart out on the line with the risk of being broken, and his friends were super protective but…. So was Keith.

“I like him too,” he answers simply. The truth in his words rings loudly and Katie nods once then surprises him by pulling him into a crushing hug.

 

* * *

 

Allura almost matches him for height, especially with those lethal looking high heels she sports, but she moves on them with confidence and polish.  She’s an easy dancer, moving gracefully as though she’s been dancing for years.  When Shiro says as much, she scrunches up her nose delicately.

“My father insisted that I take lessons from a young age,” she says.  “But it was never anything I particularly enjoyed.”

“Lance doesn’t take you dancing?”

She laughs. “Lance has a very particular style of dancing, unfortunately it doesn’t necessarily blend well with what I learned as a child.”

Shiro glances over to see Lance twirling a wildly giggling Colleen Holt around the dancefloor and his eyebrows shift in surprise.  Colleen was a tough nut to crack but Lance has clearly had no troubles winning her over with his charm.  Seeing his and Keith’s families blending together gives Shiro a sudden rush of warmth and he turns his attention back to Allura. 

“So how did you and Lance meet?” he asks curiously.  He supposes he should be learning more about them seeing as they appear to be the closest to Keith.  No doubt they will all be spending a lot of time together in the future.

“Now, now,” she teases and pokes his chest gently with one beautifully manicured nail. “I commend you for trying, but I believe we’re here to talk about you tonight.  As one of Keith’s closest friends, it would be remiss of me not to ask you for your intentions towards him.”

“Oh?” Shiro raises an eyebrow. “I married him, didn’t I?” but he says it teasingly back.  Despite not knowing her for long, he feels comfortable enough with her to know that she’s in on the joke and she laughs.  There’s a few beats as they dance but then her gaze turns probing. 

“I hope you have patience, Shiro. Keith can be a difficult man to get to know, but he’s worth the effort I promise you.”

“This isn’t a game for me, I’m here for the right reasons.  I want to find love- not just for a season, but for a lifetime.”

Shiro hopes the words don’t sound too tacky but he’s not sure how else to express his sentiment.  He’s tired of living his life alone, he wants something real.  He wants someone to build a life with, he wants someone to love.

He wants Keith.

Allura seems satisfied enough with his answer and they spin another slow lap around the floor before Lance claims her back.  There are more people dancing now and Shiro ends up being passed around to so many people his feel start to hurt and all the faces become a blur.

 

* * *

 

Keith manages to escape being scooped up by too many more guests and slips away from the dancefloor during the brief lull between songs.  The night is wearing on now, and he almost wishes he could find Lotor, give the final interview then search out the car to take them to their hotel room for the night.

That thought makes his steps falter.  The thought of it being his wedding night, and effectively sharing his bed with a stranger makes his heart quake in his chest, whether with nerves or anticipation, he couldn’t work out.

It occurs to him that it will be the first time he will be completely alone with Shiro, no buffer of their friends or the wedding between them.  There wouldn’t be any other distractions and it would be the first time that they will be able to talk.  And they had a lot to talk about.  There was a lot to learn about each other.

He wonders briefly if he should get himself another drink to calm his nerves before quickly realising that’s a bad idea.  He’s turning for the bar anyway when his uncle catches his eye and beckons him through the crowd. 

When he gets within arm’s reach, Kolivan yanks him into a brutal hug and Keith lets out a soft _oomph_ at the sudden contact against Kolivan’s hard chest.  The hug is a rare thing, Kolivan has always been a fairly absent parental figure with Thace was certainly the more tactile of them both, but it was something Keith had long learned to accept.  This hug was a surprise, but no less welcome for it.

“Your mother would have loved to have been here today,” Kolivan says gruffly and just those words alone are enough to immediately cause tears to prick behind Keith’s eyes.  As a child, the fact that Kolivan rarely spoke of his sister was a stinging wound in Keith’s side. So many times, Keith had begged for answers, only to be shut down by Kolivan’s shuttered gaze and set lines of his mouth. Keith knew virtually nothing about her other than that she was beautiful, loved… and a little bit broken.

“Thank you,” he whispers, not daring to trust his voice. He’s pretty sure that’s the most Kolivan has probably ever said on the subject since Keith first broke the news to them that he was getting married. 

“I wish you happiness, Keith.”

Keith struggles to swallow.  Kolivan gives him a final squeeze on his shoulder and then he’s walking away to leave Keith with his thoughts.

Keith senses her before he sees her. 

“Do you really have to do that? Lurk around in the shadows?”

“Me?” Ezor steps into the light and blinks in exaggeration, placing a delicately boned hand against her chest in an attempt to mimic innocence but the sneer on her full pink lips ruins the effect.  “Why, whatever do you mean, little brother?”

Keith has to clench his jaw tightly against a retort.  There’s only a matter of days between Keith’s birthday and Ezor’s, with Ezor being the older one.  It was a fact she took great delight in and never ceased to lord it over him.  For Keith, it was just another reminder that their father was a piece of shit who was obviously sleeping with two women in the same span of time.  He may not have known her but he knew his mother deserved better than that.

“If you have something to say, Ezor, then say it.”

She shakes her head mournfully.  “Oh, Keith.  Do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into? Why would you do this? What could you possibly be thinking?”

Keith sighs and runs a hand through his hair in agitation.  “You don’t think I’ve asked myself that same questions a thousand times today? I can’t explain it.  It... it just feels like something I need to do.”

Ezor steps closer, right into his personal space until they are eye to eye. It takes everything he has not to step back but he’s stubborn and refuses to let his half-sister’s antics rattle him. Nothing would make Ezor happier than to see him snap or appear agitated in any form.

“And what do you think your new husband is going to say when he finds out about all those skeletons rattling in your closet, hmm?”

“The only skeletons I have are you and Zethrid and Acxa, but I guess Lotor did me a favour by inviting you all today.”

Ezor chuckles.  “That Lotor, he had some very intriguing proposals earlier.”

Something inside Keith pricks up warily at that. If Lotor was sniffing around his sisters, that couldn’t possibly be a good thing. Those were two parts of his lives he had wanted to keep as far away from each other as he could.

“Stay away from him,” Keith mutters.  “This hasn’t got anything to do with you.”

“Doesn’t it?  What do they say about marriage? What’s yours is mine?  Maybe I should go welcome Shiro into the family. Who knows, maybe with his background, he might even be an asset. Don’t forget, we still need you.”

“I told you, Ezor.  I’m not interested.”

“Hmm,” she says with a disinterested shrug.  She slinks off, flicking her ponytail and calling out over her shoulder.  “We’ll see about that.”

It feels a little bit like a threat.

* * *

Art of Allura and Lance (SO IN LOVE!!) by [Boo](http://boosify.tumblr.com/)

 

 


	9. what a dangerous night to fall in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is nothing but deluxe cheese from here on in.

Matt catches him at the bar when it’s the last call for drinks and Shiro’s grateful for the chance for a quick debrief after all the dancing.  Most of the guests are bopping away and the ones who aren’t have already left. He’s lost track of time but it feels late and he’s not surprised when he looks over at the clock behind the bar and it shows almost midnight.

“Looks like the party is finally winding up,” Matt says as he leans back against the bar, drink in hand.  He’d shed his jacket and tie sometime after the speeches and right at this moment, he’s looking slightly drunk and very smug. He takes a sip of his drink then casts Shiro a narrow glance.  “So, what happens now?”

Shiro rubs the back of his neck but it’s a stall tactic.  He’s been trying not to think too hard about what comes next all night.  It’s his wedding night after all, but he’s not sure what to expect when it’s also their first night together and first time really alone.  He tells himself he’s not keen on jumping straight into bed to do anything other than sleep and he has an inkling that Keith might feel the same way. 

Then again, there isn’t any way he could possibly deny his body’s reaction to Keith’s presence and he wants this to be real so badly he’s pretty sure his willpower is about as strong as a piece of limp spaghetti.

“I guess we go to the honeymoon suite,” Shiro shrugs.  He’s fairly sure he’s gone red at just saying those words (and all the implications that go with it) out loud.

Matt snickers quietly then places his glass very deliberately on the bar and straightens up.  He forms a fist with his hand and talks into it like a microphone with his very best impersonation of a newscaster voice. 

“So, Mr. Shirogane,” he says, a mock seriousness in his eyes and deepening his voice.  “On a scale of one to ten, how do you think this night has gone?”

Shiro’s chuckling but he plays along.  “Well, Mr Holt.  It’s a solid eleven from me.”

Matt’s eyebrows shoot up and he draws his fist back. “An eleven, you say? That’s high praise indeed.  You heard it here first, folks. Takashi Shirogane is in love!”

Shiro snorts at that. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.  It’s been a great night, Keith seems great and…. Yeah.  I’m really happy… So far.”

“So far, pfft-“ Matt dismisses that.  “Don’t be such a cynic.”

“I don’t think cynic is the right word.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to get my hopes up too much, that’s all.”

“Oh, so… cautious then.”

“Yeah,” Shiro chuckles. “That works.” 

He doesn’t want to talk about how his relationship with Keith might change without the buffer of a wedding and friends to distract them.  The hand holding, the kisses, the dancing together was all expected of them tonight, it’s just what’s done at a wedding – and, all things considered, it felt comfortable to take Keith’s hand and lower his head to kiss him when there were a hundred people in the room clamouring for it.  Would that easy intimacy flow through to the honeymoon and beyond? Shiro wasn’t so sure.

“He seems to be pretty into to you too, Shiro,” Matt says slyly. “Maybe it’s okay to get your hopes up. Maybe tonight will be start of a lifetime of hot sex and-“

“Oh my god,” Shiro mutters. He almost sticks his fingers in his ears to block out whatever Matt was going to say next.  “You’re too young to talk like that.”

Matt cracks up.  “Dude, I’m older than your husband.  And you’re not that old! Who’s the innocent now?”

Shiro starts laughing but he’s having a hard time trying to follow the conversation. He’s not sure either of them is making sense right now and all he knows is that he would really rather not be talking about his current non-existent sex life with the closest thing he has to a brother...  But it’s nice, he’s having fun.  He’s had a night that’s turned out better than he ever could have hoped and he is looking forward to going back to the honeymoon suite and winding down, maybe a sharing a nightcap before the inevitable awkward discussion of who gets the bed and who’ll get the floor.  Or maybe it will be big spoon, little spoon, who knows? He tries very hard not to get ahead of himself.  The last thing he wants to do is come on too strong and ruin a good thing before it’s had a chance to blossom.

He’s still talking smack with Matt when Keith approaches, and again, Shiro’s senses go on high alert at just the glimpse of him. It’s hard not to stare, but Keith is already someone who captivates his attention. He watches him come closer, taking in everything about the gorgeous man he’s just married.  Keith has his bow tie undone and sticking out of one of his pockets, his sleeves are rolled up to expose leanly muscled forearms. He’s got a smile on his lips, but it’s a little awkward and mostly wry.

“Hey,” Keith greets them both.  He nods at Matt then turns to Shiro.  Shiro’s focus lands on the small patch of pale skin that’s visible at Keith’s collarbone now that his tie has long since been discarded and it’s an effort to drag his eyes up to Keith’s face when he continues to speak.  “So, I think they’re waiting for us to say goodbye and all that. If you’re ready, that is?”

Shiro’s good mood falters and sinks slightly under the sudden onslaught of nerves but he forces himself to swallow and smile at Keith. He can see the nerves Keith is trying to hide too.  Oh well, at least they’re both nervous about the next step. 

“Okay, I’m ready to go,” Shiro says.  He doesn’t think too much about how he automatically steps forward and slides his palm against Keith’s lower back as they walk out. 

It feels like the expected thing to do after all.

 

* * *

 

The rose petals rain down on them just as they did after they were announced as husbands and the gravel crunches under their shoes as they move through the crowd of their family and friends.  Allura catches Keith’s hand and presses something into his palm with a wink. 

“What we talked about earlier,” she says but Keith doesn’t get a chance to reply before Shiro is tugging him towards the waiting limo on the manor’s grand driveway. 

Keith’s hand is settled firmly in Shiro’s hand and someone yells “Kiss!”

With an embarrassed laugh, they pause at the opened limo door so Shiro can pull Keith in close.  The night has turned chilly but Shiro’s touch is so warm and it sends a shiver down Keith’s spine. His new husband’s eyes are mischievous and without warning, he dips Keith backwards and plants a kiss on him that’s powerful enough it makes Keith’s toes curl. 

Keith wants to secretly thank whoever it was demanding the PDA.

There’s a few hoots as they break apart but with a final wave at their friends and family, Keith hurriedly slides into the limo’s open door, scooting over the black leather of the seat until he’s on the other side.  Shiro slides in beside him and the door shuts and they’re both grinning at each other.  Keith’s not sure, but he has a feeling he might have kissed Shiro again if he hadn’t suddenly realised they weren’t alone in the car.

On the seat on the furthest side, Lotor sits with his hands folded neatly over his ever-present tablet.  In such a confined space, Lotor’s presences makes Keith’s skin crawl.  It’s suddenly claustrophobic, like all the air has been sucked out of the small cabin until he feels like he’s going to suffocate.

“Lotor,” Shiro says it mildly but there’s a hard edge to his voice. “Wasn’t expecting to see you there.”

“Final interview for the night,” Lotor says with a lazy shrug.  “Now would be the perfect time to take on board your impressions of the day and each other.  Unless you would rather wait and we can do this in the honeymoon suite-” 

“No,” Keith says it sharply then glances at Shiro apprehensively. “No,” he repeats, this time not as vehement.  Keith really didn’t want Lotor in that space. He doesn’t want that honeymoon suite tainted.

Lotor goes on to ask his questions.  To Keith, they sound like the same ones he answered only a few hours ago.  Their answers are the same.  Yes, it’s been a good night.  Yes, they’re both pleased with the match chosen for them.  Yes, they both have high hopes for the outcome of the experiment.

They don’t look at each other as they answer, they don’t really need to.  When the limo pulls up outside the lobby entrance of an impressively expensive hotel, Keith’s had well and truly enough of Lotor’s interrogation.

“Well, if that’s all then,” Shiro says when the car pulls to a stop and the door is opened by one of the hotel staff.  “Are we free to leave?”

Keith holds back his snicker at Shiro’s tone.  It’s mocking and worth it to see Lotor’s eyes narrow and then Shiro is exiting the limo with Keith following closely right behind him.  They walk into the brighter lights of the lavish hotel foyer and Keith suddenly feels like he’s entering an entire new world.

A world where he’s a married man on his wedding night _._   Yikes.  The band on his finger suddenly feels very heavy.

Keith studies the sparkling water feature in the centre of the lobby while Shiro collects their room key. This whole moment feels almost more surreal than walking up the aisle and he’s a little bit relieved that Shiro takes the lead because for some reason, Keith can’t quite make his thoughts flow into any semblance of coherence. 

His nerves start to kick into overdrive again.  In the elevator, the quiet is loud between them until Shiro glances down at the flower bouquet Keith is holding as though he’s just noticed it. 

“Nice flowers.”

Keith flushes as he jingles them in his hand.  They look a little worse for wear at this point of the night but they’re still beautiful despite the bruised petals.  They fill the air with a fragrance Keith is sure will be burned into his memory forever.

“Allura make me take them. She said something about a new tradition she was starting. She’s the next one to be married and only the bridesmaid so-” Keith shrugs.

It sounded a little silly now that he was saying it out loud and it sounded sillier when he realised he was babbling. Suddenly with no one else around, he feels nervous enough he’s immediately transported back in his memory of that nerve-wracking moment before he walked up the aisle.

The elevator doors creak open, distracting Shiro from whatever it was he was about reply.  The long hallway to their suite stretches out before them.

Shiro steps out confidently, pausing only momentarily to check if Keith was following and they make their way down the wide corridor until they reach their door.  Keith can feel the heaviness in his limbs as he drags one foot in front of the other.  It’s a little bit like walking to the gallows.

His current life is changing, fading, diminishing… and his new one with Shiro is about to start in earnest.  They’ll be truly alone for the first time since they met a few hours ago and for some strange reason, it has Keith in a ball of anxiety.

Shiro swipes the card to unlock it and the door pops open a crack with the sound of a small click.  Shiro places his hand on it to push it open part way but then he pauses.  He turns to Keith with a shy smile and Keith is momentarily dazed by just how good looking he is.    

“I’m supposed to carry you over the threshold for good luck, aren’t I?”

Keith blinks, caught off guard by the question.  He’d seen it in the movies often enough but he’d never thought he’d ever be in a position to be carried anywhere. He lifts his chin a little and huffs.

“Or I could carry _you_ ,” he challenges and Shiro laughs. He eyes the flowers in Keith’s hands.

“You’re the one with the bouquet,” Shiro points out and before Keith can argue any further, Shiro scoops him up bridal style, and steps through the doorway into their honeymoon suite.


	10. i think i want you more than want

If Shiro hadn’t met his new husband only a mere few hours earlier, he imagined he would have carried him over the threshold, straight towards the bed and then just rolled them together on the sheets, all while kissing him madly.

But since he didn’t know his new husband all that well, he releases Keith (albeit reluctantly) just a few steps into the room then turns to close the door behind them. When he turns back around, Keith’s cheeks are still pink and he is dumping the bouquet of flowers on a side table.

The suite they’ve been assigned is beautifully appointed.  A huge king-sized bed and delicate lighting and dark panelling on the walls to lend the room a sense of warmth and intimacy.  Their belongings had been delivered earlier and two suitcases line one side and next to that is an opulent bathroom complete with a spa.  Too bad they won’t be getting much use out of that, Shiro thinks.  They’re due to fly out tomorrow to wherever the powers that be had assigned their honeymoon to be.

On the opposite side of the room, here’s a small chaise lounge on one side of the bed (okay, neither of them would be able to sleep on that Shiro briefly thinks) that faces out to huge floor to ceiling windows revealing the cityscape beyond. With the curtains drawn, the sparkle of lights against the inky black of the night is mesmerizing. After a cursitory exploration of the room, Keith is drawn to the window first.  

“Wow, they pulled out all the stops for us, didn’t they?” Shiro says, impressed as he takes it all in.

“Look at this view,” Keith exclaims from his spot at the window.  He leans forward, his forehead against the glass and one hand beside his head to steady himself as he tries to peer down to the street below.  “How high up are we?”

“Judging by all those rooftops, pretty high I’d say,” Shiro answers as he makes his way to Keith’s side. “Maybe penthouse?”

“Glad we’re not footing the bill for this,” Keith comments dryly as he straightens up and Shiro agrees.

The conversation stalls after that and Shiro blames it on the nerves that suddenly return with a vengeance.

There’s so much Shiro wants to learn about Keith but he’s not sure where to begin. Do they start slow and shallow as though they were dating in the real world? Shiro isn’t sure he’s keen on that, it never worked out so well for him in the past which was why he’s ended up here where he is today.  Or do they just jump straight into the deep stuff and figure out the superficial things later?

“Guess we might as well get comfortable,” he murmurs after a few moments of silence. It’s partly to himself.

He tears himself away from the view and moves back to the small table in the vicinity of the bed where an expensive bottle of champagne is chilling next to two crystal wine glasses. He picks up the bottle, wiping off the droplets that coat it and holding it up questioningly to Keith.  He doesn’t actually want it, but it gives them something to do until they settle in a bit more comfortably around each other.  With any luck, it will prevent him from having a complete internal meltdown over the fact he’s alone in a beautiful hotel room with a beautiful man who happens to be his brand-new husband and a stranger to boot.  He’d never been good at casual hook-ups and he was even less sure about blind dates slash weddings at first sight. What was the etiquette here?  How do they choose who sleeps where? Do they talk about it? Flip a coin? Arm wrestle?

The bottle opens with a pop and he tries to put the questions out of his mind as he fills the champagne glasses, ignoring the way his hands tremble ever so slightly. Keith leaves the window and comes to his side, taking the glass from his hand with a tight smile.

Okay, at least Shiro isn’t the only one feeling a little out of his depth here.

“To… us?” Shiro says hesitantly.

Keith murmurs the words back and their glasses chink lightly. Shiro has to stop himself from guzzling the entire glass. Maybe the champagne wasn’t such a great idea after all.

Keith takes a sip then puts down his glass to shrug out of his suit jacket and kick off his shoes and it hits Shiro again that it’s just the two of them now.  They can finally unwind, maybe let a little bit of the tension and nerves go.  It had been awkward today knowing there were so many eyes watching their every move but hopefully now the most awkward thing will be how they decide who gets what side of the bed… or the floor. 

“So how do we do this? Flip a coin?” Keith asks, wandering over to the bed. It’s a big bed thankfully, a multitude of pillows and two little mints resting on their pillows. It takes a few moments for Keith’s words to sink in and Shiro finds himself briefly panicking over having to make a choice until he realises Keith is talking about sides of the bed and not…. _that._

“Uh,” he tries to gather his wits and decides it might be time to lay off the champagne. He very deliberately places his glass down and crosses the room to stand beside Keith. They both look at the huge bed. “I guess tossing a coin might work. Unless you have a preference?”

“Not really,” Keith shrugs. “I can sleep anywhere. I have a feeling as soon as my head hits the pillow, it’s going to be lights out,” he makes a slashing motion with his hand. “So, you choose and I’ll just sleep wherever.”

Shiro hesitates before deciding. He tries to sleep on his side usually, his arm isn’t exactly soft and pliant and he doesn’t want to freak Keith out by inadvertently letting Keith brush up against it in the middle of the night so he figures it might be best to keep it as far away from Keith as possible.  He doesn’t voice that out loud though, he just shrugs and gestures to one side.

“Cool,” Keith agrees easily and takes a seat on his side to pull off his socks.  He also yawns then blushes, glancing over at Shiro with embarrassment.  “Sorry, it’s been a long day. Not that you’re…. boring or anything.”

That makes Shiro laugh even as he thinks about how appealing Keith looks. With his suit jacket, shoes and socks discarded, he already looks more at ease. 

“I’m exhausted too. I don’t think I slept more than a couple of hours last night. Too nervous about meeting you.”

Keith gives him a nervous smile and ducks his head.  Shiro’s noticed that’s something he does to hide his face when emotions feel too much. It’s utterly endearing.

“Me too,” Keith says quietly. “I kept wondering what you might be like.” 

“I hope I live up to your expectation,” Shiro jokes but it falls flat to his ears. He feels the ever-present weight of his arm and hurries to change the subject. “Do you want to go first?” he says with a nod of his head in the direction of the bathroom. 

Keith readily agrees and when the door clicks shut behind him, Shiro has to try really hard not to think about what Keith’s lean body might look like under the cascade of water in the shower, that if they were married in the traditional sense of the word, there wouldn’t be anything to hold him back from undressing and slipping into the shower right behind Keith-

Unfortunately, that also inadvertently leads him back to thinking about his own body and he’s hit with a wave of unease as he looks down at his metallic hand. 

Almost all of his arm had been hidden under his suit and he had refused to take his jacket off over the course of the evening. Would Keith be shocked at the extent of his injury? Would he be uncomfortable with the tech that was fused to his bones and nerve endings? The thought of Keith being disgusted by it makes Shiro’s chest ache and he reminds himself for the hundredth time that day not to fall too deep. Not yet. Not until he was able to get Keith’s full measure.

His heart was rushing towards the edge, ready to make the leap but his head… his head was stubbornly refusing to let him go.

Shiro gravitates towards the small lounge in front of the window and gazes outside to the view beyond. He briefly considers getting his champagne but then decides he couldn’t’ be bothered and frankly, he really doesn’t need anything else dulling his senses further. Whatever courage he needs to get through this first night as a married man, alcohol wasn’t going to be the way to get it. Keith deserves better than that.

He mulls over the day as the cityscape outside captures his thoughts.  There is the ever-present bustle of the city, all those people out there going about their lives. How many of them were there teetering on the precipice of a monumental change like he and Keith were? How many people out there were there making up, breaking up or breaking down?

It made him dizzy to think about it.

The door to the bathroom pops open a short time later and Keith comes back into the main room with his clothes bundled up in his arms and his hair wet and plastered to his head. He doesn’t seem even remotely tired anymore. He looks beautifully at ease in a black V-necked shirt and sleep pants that ride low on his narrow hips - possibly even more so because padding around in the suite in bare feet and wet hair, he appears infinitely more comfortable as though he’s shed a persona along with the suit.  Shiro has to forcibly tear his gaze away.

Keith dumps his stuff into his suitcase and gestures to the bathroom with a light shrug. “All yours.”

“Thanks,” Shiro doesn’t hesitate to grab his gear, hoping Keith didn’t notice his staring. He’s almost to the bathroom when he pauses and points to the parcel sitting next to the flowers.  “Oh, a delivery came for you while you were in the shower.”

 

* * *

 

Keith approaches the small parcel warily, unsure what it could be.  There’s a small envelope with it and he picks it up curiously and flips it over.  Apart from his name written in handwriting he doesn’t recognise, there’s no clue as to who it’s from.  He slides one finger under the seal to pop it open and pulls out the card.

  

> _Since I know you wouldn’t have let yourself think about it, here’s some supplies in case you need them.  -Lance._

Keith frowns, trying to think of what supplies he could possibly need, seeing has he was already packed and ready to go.  Did Lance know something about the honeymoon?  He was sure he packed enough clean underwear and a few changes of clothes, he’s already used his toothbrush so what else could he be needing that Lance would need to deliver it to his room?

He pulls open the package and nestled inside it is a small box tied with a red ribbon.  He frowns as he gently tugs on the ribbon and it falls away then he unclips the latch and opens the box lid. It creaks ever so softly as it opens and Keith’s eyes widen at what’s inside – _condoms, lube and… are those fluffy handcuffs?!_

“Lance, I’m going to fucking kill you,” he snarls just as the bathroom door opens and Shiro steps out.  He’s drying his hair with a towel and he pauses, one eyebrow lifted questioningly.

“Ah, did you say something?” 

Keith slams the box shut a little harder then necessary then turns his back on it. His cheeks feel hot and once again he mentally promises to strangle his best friend. “Uh, no, all good. Just Lance’s idea of a joke.”

Shiro chuckles and murmurs _okay_ then disappears back inside the bathroom. Keith briefly panics about what he’s going to do with this package Lance has sent him. Should he hide it? Should he take it with them? What if Shiro finds it? _Oh my god,_ what if Shiro finds it and gets the wrong idea or what if he sees the cuffs and thinks Keith is into some weird kinky shit? What if _Shiro_ is into weird kinky shit?

Fuck, why weren’t any of _those_ questions covered in the selection process?

Keith’s staring at the box, knowing he has only seconds before Shiro comes back into the room. If he’s going to get rid of it, he needs to do it fast. Another thought occurs to him and his breath catches in his throat even as his body betrays him by heating up at just the idea of it.

What if…. What if they need them?

Keith hears Shiro moving about in the bathroom and he quickly grabs the box and shoves it deep into his suitcase, telling himself he’ll deal with it later.

He’s almost calmed down enough by the time Shiro comes back out, looking tired but content in a white shirt and dark boxers.  There’s a small orange and grey garrison emblem on his shirt but that’s not what Keith is staring at.

For the first time, Keith sees the metal of Shiro’s hand extends far further than he realised.  The cool lines of silver and black disappears under the sleeve of Shiro’s shirt and it’s hard for Keith to hide his reaction.

He presumes it must have shown at least partly on his face because Shiro’s eyes shutter and he sits down heavily on the bed with a sigh.

“I guess it is kind of confronting,” Shiro says

He sounds dejected enough that it sends a frisson of apprehension over Keith’s skin. Shiro looks like he’s a heartbeat away from closing off and Keith dreads the thought.  He needs Shiro to be open to him, he needs Shiro to take the lead on his or Keith isn’t sure he’s strong enough to follow through.  This whole experience… He can’t have Shiro closing off on him on their first damn night together.

“No,” Keith shakes his head. He’s vehement in his response.  “It’s not like that.”

Silence hangs heavily between them for a beat.  Shiro rubs his temple absently and then his hand drops.

“Oh?” Shiro answers tiredly. 

Keith can hear the scepticism in his tone even at that one word. It makes something twist painfully in his chest to hear that resignation. Like he’s tired, so tired of having to explain himself. To excuse away his trauma. Keith hates that. He takes a breath as he struggles for find the right words. 

“No, I mean- I see some rough stuff in my job.  Sometimes the people we save… they come back to see us once they’ve recovered and started living their lives again… You know, to say thank you for saving them, I guess. So, I’ve seen prosthetics before but… I’ve just never seen one like _that.”_

Shiro stares down at his arm in surprise. He looks as though that was the last thing he expected Keith to say. 

“It’s…. uh, Hunk.  Hunk made this. It’s a prototype.”

Keith dares to take a step closer. “And it’s…. it’s permanent?” he asks curiously.

Shiro doesn’t quite grasp what Keith means and his heavy brows furrow.  Keith clarifies. “It’s fused to you? Is… is that the right word?”

“Yeah, I guess you could call it that,” Shiro answers after a short pause.  Then he shrugs and his metal fingers move.  “As far as prosthetics go, it’s pretty advanced. Mild sensation, warmth… it moves and flexes like my human hand.”

“Wow,” Keith murmurs. He knows he’s staring at it, but he’s staring at it with a curiosity that is nothing like the morbid fascination that Shiro is probably used to. Keith inwardly debates with himself and decides he’s not going to hold back from this. Shiro might shut him down… then again, he might not.

“May I?” Keith asks the question quietly, not quite meeting Shiro’s eye. 

It’s a risk to ask.  It would mean Shiro letting him get close enough to look it over, something he clearly isn’t overly comfortable with allowing, let alone a stranger. Keith finds himself holding his breath as Shiro pauses then shrugs.

“Sure,” and then Shiro is pulling his shirt off and letting it pool in his lap and his upper torso is laid bare for Keith to see the full extent of the trauma that Shiro’s body has had to endure. Shiro doesn’t look at Keith even as Keith moves closer and sits down beside him on the edge of the bed.

Keith takes Shiro’s hand gently and lays it palm up against his thighs.  He can feel Shiro quiver, noticing that Shiro’s eyes have drifted closed and his lips form a tight line as though this is painful for him to tolerate.  Maybe it is.  Maybe by allowing this, he’s reliving the trauma all over again.

Keith’s heart feels uncomfortably large in his chest as he places the pads of two of his fingers in the centre of Shiro’s palm. He holds them there for a beat, then slowly traces the lines of Shiro’s prosthetic from his metallic wrist, over the flexing joints and seals where something like silicone or rubber allows for the flexibility for movement, all the way over his forearm and then to his elbow.

Under his touch, Shiro’s arm is warm like skin but harder than bone. Shiro squirms slightly at Keith’s touch and Keith’s eyes widen in surprise.

“You can feel that?” he asks as he brushes his fingertips over Shiro’s palm again.

“Yeah,” Shiro murmurs.  “It’s different… but it’s there.”

“Incredible,” Keith whispers. He can’t keep the awe out of his voice.    

He moves his hand up further, to where the metal buts up against Shiro’s skin. It’s not pretty, the scaring is rough and it’s clear that Shiro’s body has struggled immensely to accept the tech that gives him back his mobility. Even now, the join of metal to flesh looks angry but Keith doesn’t shy away from it. 

His fingers keep travelling, over Shiro’s biceps, over his shoulder, across his collarbone and over the myriad of pale scars the litter Shiro’s skin.  This time the shudder that rolls through his frame is unmistakable. He’s so beautiful to Keith it’s physically painful.

Keith draws his fingers away even as Shiro lets out a shuddering breath.  His eyes are still closed tightly against him but then they open and that stormy hue bores into Keith’s own.  

“You’re…. you’re really not bothered?” Shiro’s voice cracks ever so slightly.

Keith shakes his head and makes his heart twinge that Shiro even has to ask. He can’t stop himself from dancing his fingers over Shiro’s palm again.

“No, I think you’re beautiful-“

Too late he realises the words that fall out of his mouth. 

Too many times that’s happened today and he drops his head to hide the burn of his cheeks. He flounders, trying to think of something else to say but then Shiro’s voice cuts through his thoughts.

“Good,” Shiro says softly and Keith is sure he can hear a smile in his voice. Shiro’s arm is still lying across Keith’s lap and their heads are close together. Shiro’s warmth leeches into him.  “Because that’s how I feel about you, too.”

 

* * *

 

(art by [91939Art](https://91939art.tumblr.com/))

 


	11. good things come to those who wait

Shiro only needs to lean in slightly and his lips would be ghosting over Keith’s. There’s already the blush of his warm breath against his lips but unlike at their wedding reception, Shiro hesitates to close the distance between them.  He wants to, god he wants to but the desire burns dully in his veins and he knows it would only take the lightest touch to set him aflame.

And here, in this beautiful honeymoon suite, he’s not sure if he will have the willpower to stop.  The attraction he feels to Keith is palpable.  It fills the room and he knows on an instinctual level that Keith feels it too.  If they fall into a kiss now, to stop it from going any further would be almost impossible.

It’s new. It’s so new this fledging relationship developing between them. Shiro doesn’t want it to burn so bright and so fast that nothing is left but ashes on the wind.  He needs them to go slow.  He wants this to _last._  

He wants this to be his forever.

They hover in the moment, balancing on the precipice.  Somehow, feeling that Keith is just as torn by indecision as Shiro is a sweet kind of agony.  For long, slow beats, neither of them move and it starts to feel like unspoken words are filling the space between them.

They have a life time for their lips to meet and there’s a peace that comes with that.

In the end, it’s taken out of their hands anyway. 

The knock on the door of their suite causes them both to blink and fall out of the moment with a thud.  Keith looks slightly dazed and Shiro pulls his arm back to himself reluctantly to release him. He climbs to his feet to make his way to the door for the second time that night.  Another package is pressed into his hands and the door shuts before he can think to ask any questions.

When he carries it over to the bed, Keith has already excused himself back into the bathroom, leaving Shiro alone.  He doesn’t begrudge him for needing a moment and he’s fast realising that briefly disappearing is Keith’s way of centring himself after big emotions. Shiro is almost relived because he feels like he needs time to gather himself too. Being so close to Keith is proving to be a balancing act.  He hopes that getting to know each other doesn’t fall to the side of just wanting to kiss him into oblivion.

By the time Keith emerges once again, Shiro has the package open on the bed and is examining the note that accompanied it.  There’s no lingering tension, the weight from their moment earlier and Shiro’s soft confession has faded.  Almost as though it hadn’t even happened and Shiro can’t decide if he’s relived or disappointed.

He looks up as Keith comes closer to investigate what he has.  Keith lifts an eyebrow.

“What is that?”

“Lotor’s not done with us yet it seems,” Shiro says ruefully as he holds up the card and a video camera in his hand.  “We have homework.”

Keith’s nose wrinkles in distaste and it’s possibly the cutest thing Shiro has ever seen.  He clears his throat and forces himself to stop mooning over his new husband and stay on task.  Thankfully, Keith didn’t seem to notice. He picks up the card and begins to read.

“The instructions say we are ‘required to record a video diary’ as part of the experiment. ‘Share your experiences of the day with each other and the camera’” Shiro shrugs.  “Hmm, okay. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Seems simple enough,” Keith agrees. “I’d rather talk to a camera than have Lotor creeping around to be honest.”

That makes Shiro laugh. “Amen to that.”

Shiro casts away the card and fiddles with the camera, flipping it on and setting it to record as Keith moves to the other side of the room.

“So, Keith,” Shiro swings the camera around to focus it on his new husband where he stands with his back to him, rummaging around in his suitcase as though he’s looking for something. “How do _you_ think the day went?”

Keith pauses for a moment.  He doesn’t seem comfortable with the camera trained on him but then he shrugs casually and decides to roll with it.  Shiro appreciates that about him.  Situations that make him uncomfortable (like marrying a stranger!) but Keith goes with it anyway.

“Eh, it was okay,” Keith says casually as he glances teasingly over his shoulder.  Shiro’s heart does a cartwheel in his chest.

“Just okay? Ouch,” Shiro lightly teases back then he flips the camera around on himself and scoots back on the bed, leaning back against the pile of pillows.

“Well, _I_ think it went pretty well,” he says conversationally into the camera lens.  “Now I have to find out if my new husband snores because that… that might just be a deal breaker.”

Keith snorts and climbs over to join Shiro on the bed. He has to slide close to get his face in the camera’s frame and Shiro puts one arm around him to let him get closer. He’s almost in Shiro’s lap and he’s warm and damp from his shower and god, he smells good.  Shiro has to jostle the camera slightly to stop it from recording the desire that flares up on his face. _Slow, they’re going to go slow,_ he tells himself even if something inside him is already dancing for joy at the easy way Keith just slides in next to him, as though they’ve been sharing a room and a bed for years. 

“Speaking of deal breakers,” Keith says.  He looks away from the camera almost shyly. “Do you have any others I should know about? Aside from the snoring?”

Shiro huffs out a breath, surprised at the question. The deal breaker conversation is one they’re going to have to cover at some point. They’d gone over it during the selection process with the scientists but the thought of discussing it with each other makes him feel a bit sick. 

“Probably,” he says honestly.  “But that seems like a heavy conversation and I’ve had way too much to drink tonight.”

“Yeah, I guess we have plenty of time to talk about that stuff,” Keith agrees. He looks a little bit like he regrets asking. Shiro tries to nudge the conversation towards something lighter and the conversation ends up circling back to their day and Shiro’s joke about snoring.  

“Well then, you’ll be asleep and it won’t matter if you snore-“ he’s saying, trying to keep a straight face as he looks into the camera.  Beside him, Keith looks away and flicks a finger nail.  There’s a twitch to his lips that does something warm to Shiro’s insides.

“That’s right, it won’t matter,” Keith says but there’s a twinkle in his eye.

“Ohh,” Shiro’s laughing. “So that’s how it’s going to be?”

Keith’s grin is almost feral. “Yep.”

They lean in together as they laugh and it strikes Shiro again how easy it is with Keith.  His humour is on the dry side and he has a tendency to deliver his punchlines so deadpan it takes Shiro a split second to realise he’s joking. And he snickers at Shiro’s lame jokes. Not quite full on laughter yet but Shiro figures he has to start somewhere. One day he’ll get a belly laugh out of him, they have plenty of time for that. There’s no rush.

It bobs on the surface, just a warm joy that spreads throughout him and Shiro doesn’t think he could be any happier with the outcome of the day than he is right in that moment. Keith is leaning against him comfortably as his eyelids start to droop.  Shiro can’t resist turning his face, his nose brushing over Keith’s hair.  Then he remembers the camera is still recording.

“Well, okay, so I think we can both agree today was a success?”

“Yep,” Keith nods and he yawns. He suddenly looks like he’s asleep with his eyes open. Shiro doesn’t blame him, it’s some ungodly time in the am. They should have been asleep hours ago but they couldn’t seem to stop talking. He follows Keith with the camera where he blinks blearily.  Dear god, but he’s cute and sexy and all the things that’s going to haunt Shiro’s dreams tonight.

“Guess it’s lights out then.”

“Yep,” Keith mumbles.  He shifts just enough to stumble off the bed and pull the sheets back, sliding under the fluffy doona and claiming a bunch of pillows for himself. For some obscure reason, the way he does it so easily as though they have been co-habiting for years, makes Shiro feel warm inside.

Shiro waves into the camera and turns it on Keith. “Well, that’s it from us tonight. Keith, say goodnight to the nice scientists-“

Keith grunts and shoves a pillow over his head and Shiro laugh as he turns the camera off and places it on the nightstand on his side of the bed.  He flips off the lamp, pulls back the sheets on his side and thinks about how strange it is to be sliding into bed with another person.  Not for any kind of romance, but just to sleep.  He couldn’t even remember the last time he shared a bed with someone, probably not since well before his accident. He’d been too busy during flight school, getting his thrills from screaming through the skies in jets than from dating and then came the crash and… well, exposing his broken parts to another person just felt too hard.

He shifts against the mattress, sliding onto his side only to come face to face with Keith’s mop of dark hair. He can hear Keith’s breathing, low and deep and even and it warms him that Keith is so comfortable that he can drop to sleep so easily.  Shiro can’t, he’s still too wired, replaying every smile Keith gave him, every kiss they shared and his hand twitches.  He wants to lay it over Keith’s hip but it seems like too much of a proprietary move…  Yes, Keith is his husband now. His, no one else’s but there’s still so many walls they have to scale before it will become a true marriage.

He doesn’t realise how stiffly he’s holding himself until Keith sighs into his pillow and scoots back slightly. One hand gropes around behind him and finds Shiro’s arm and his hands slides down it until he’s twining their fingers together.  He tugs Shiro feebly around him and rests both their hands against his stomach.  His sleep shirt has ridden up and Shiro can feel the bare skin against the back of his hand.

“Sleep,” Keith murmurs and Shiro finally relaxes, letting himself sink into the softness of the mattress and melt against Keith’s touch. 

It’s been a long day and he finally lets the lure of sleep catch up with him.

 

* * *

 

One of the perks (if you could call it that) of years doing shift work means that Keith can fall asleep easily anywhere, anytime and wake up just as easily without too much grogginess.  It was something he had to train himself to do quickly, otherwise the long nights on shift meant he couldn’t do his job from the fatigue. 

It also meant now that as soon as his eyes opened, he was already thinking about the day ahead.  He’d slept surprisingly well considering he was sleeping next to a stranger-

No, that wasn’t right.  Shiro didn’t feel like a stranger.  Not anymore.  There was something inside him that recognised something in Shiro too.  Like they had been waiting to find each other for a very long time.  It felt comfortable, even though it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours.

Thinking about Shiro made Keith sit up gingerly, careful not to jostle the bed and wake him.  He had no idea what Shiro might be like in the mornings.  He might be one of those insanely grumpy types like Lance that needed no less than two hours and twelve cups of coffee in order to function, or he might just be like Keith and roll out of bed easily and ready to tackle the day.

He expected Shiro to still be sound asleep, on his side of the huge bed, maybe a hand bunched up under his pillow and sleeping on his side neatly (Shiro didn’t seem like the sort to starfish) but when he looked over the bed was empty.

He soon discovered the bathroom was empty too. In fact, he was alone in the suite.

The discovery made something flare uncomfortably inside of his briefly until he quickly pushed it back down. 

 _No,_ he told himself firmly.  He and Shiro had a connection.  Last night, they’d laughed and joked together.  They’d had a moment… they’d kissed, they’d fallen asleep together …. There was no way Shiro would have abandoned him. 

_Was there?_

Keith hated the way a dark, insidious part of his mind immediately jumped to that conclusion, seizing on his deepest fears and insecurity.  He pushed it down, discarded it but it left a bad taste in his mouth that lingered even as he spied Shiro’s suitcase still in the corner and all through his shower and dressing.

It hovered at the edges until Keith took a seat on the couch, wondering idly what he was supposed to do now, until the door to the suite opened softly and there was the brush of footsteps on the carpet.

“Hey,” Shiro greeted him as he turned around.  “I didn’t expect you to be awake yet.”

Shiro paused and Keith could see the questions in his eyes.  _Did you think I’d left?_

In the light of Shiro’s return, his worries felt stupid and overwrought.  He forced an easy grin to his face.  “Did I snore too loud?” he jokes. 

If Shiro notices the flatness of his joke, he doesn’t mention it and he steps deeper into the room.  Keith sees it then, the white towel draped over Shiro’s shoulders, the black sneakers and the black compression activewear that clings to Shiro like a second skin. His white hair is limp with sweat and it finally clicks.

The gym.  Shiro was in the gym. 

“No snoring,” Shiro laughs and he perches on the edge of the bed to peel off his shoes.  “Lots of failing limbs though. I didn’t realise I’d married an octopus,” he teases gently.

Keith’s pulled from his admiration of how Shiro’s muscles bunch and move under the compression suit and he flushes. “Oh my god, I’m sorry-“

“No, I’m kidding. You were the perfect gentleman.”

Keith resists the urge to throw a pillow at him even as his heart is doing a happy little dance in his chest. He’s irrationally pleased that their easy comradery from the night before has flowed so easily into the daylight hours. There had been a small part of him that wondered if things might be different once the sun came up but they weren’t.  It made him almost giddy.

“Have you eaten?” Shiro asks, casting his eyes around the room.  Keith shakes his head.

“Not yet. I could order room service while you shower if you want?”

Shiro gives him a grateful smile as he disappears into the bathroom.  “Sounds great.”

It doesn’t take long for a tray of breakfast delights to arrive.  Shiro emerges from the shower just as the hotel staff set up a small table for them, pour some coffees then melt away to leave them to dine alone.    

“So, working out is pretty important to you” Keith asks as he spreads jam over a piece of toast.  He’s actually not that hungry, his nerves returning out of the blue now that Shiro is seated opposite him at the small table, their knees brushing against each other. Shiro’s hair is still wet from the shower and he’s dressed himself in a black buttoned up shirt with the sleeves rolled up.  It makes his eyes look almost silver in the morning light.

“It is,” he nods, not meeting Keith’s eye. “But not in the way you think.”

Keith waits for him to continue and Shiro holds up his metal hand briefly before dropping it back into his lap.  “This arm is heavy.  Hunk’s got me on a strict workout regime to make sure I have the strength to manage it.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

Shiro shrugs lightly as he reaches for a pastry.  “Do you workout? Next time we could head down together?”

“Me? Um, the gym isn’t really my thing.”

Shiro rakes his eyes over Keith and his mouth goes dry.  He almost drops his toast at the brazen way Shiro appraises him.  It makes his skin heat when he realises he likes it.  He likes it _a lot_.

“You look like you take care of yourself,” Shiro says and takes a slow, sip of his coffee. Keith watches the way his lips curl around the edge of the mug and it takes Keith a long moment to realise that he’s staring.

“I guess,” he shrugs. “I like hiking and rock climbing on my days off.  Abseiling too.”

“Ah. All skills you might need in tricky rescues?”

Keith blinks at Shiro’s perceptiveness then wonders why he’s surprised.  “Yes, actually.”

Shiro smiles to himself as he takes another sip and Keith forces himself to look away.  He spies a flash of movement over Shiro’s shoulder and it turns out to be an envelope being slid under their door.  At least they were kind enough not to interrupt like last night, he thinks to himself. He goes to collect it and grins when he opens it and two plane tickets fall out.  

“Well,” he grins as shows them to Shiro.  “Hope you packed your snorkel.”


	12. 'cause when we kiss, my heart drops like a bomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The honeymoon is an integral phase in our couples’ relationships. It’s their first opportunity to drop their guard and show their new spouse who they really are.” - Lead Experiment Co-Ordinator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I’m not sure what the minimum age to fly solo in other countries is but in Australia, it’s 15 (I went to school with kids who were flying solo before they were allowed to drive). Also, I'm trying to keep locations in this fic pretty vague but you can assume it's somewhere in the southern hemisphere.

“Okay, this is much more enjoyable than the garrison’s military transports,” Shiro sighs happily, leaning back against the plush seats.  The leather squeaks slightly as he moves. “They don’t even have padding on their chairs let alone reclinable seats, free champagne and inflight entertainment.”

It wasn’t long after the tickets were delivered to their rooms that they gathered their gear and headed to the airport to make their flight.  Their conversation was kept perfunctory, barely even scratching the surface as they hurriedly threw together their suitcases, dumped their wedding suits at the hotel reception for Lance and Matt to collect later and climbed into a waiting taxi.

Just trying to get through the security checkpoints at the airport proved to be an ordeal on its own and it left Shiro feeling irritated and faintly humiliated. Here he was trying to somehow prove to Keith that his prosthetic didn’t hinder his life, that it didn’t make him any less whole, when at every checkpoint, it attracted unwanted attention and he was forced to endure numerous scans and embarrassingly personal questions that other passengers didn’t.  It was frustrating.

Waiting for yet another security guard to wander off to find his superior when his arm set the scanners alerts into overdrive yet again, Shiro glimpsed the set line of Keith’s jaw.  His narrowed gaze made it look like he was just daring someone to say something wrong just so he had the excuse to lash them to pieces.  Shiro sighed. 

“Sorry, I know this dampens the whole experience a bit.”

Keith had frowned then and took a step closer to him.  “Don’t you apologize,” he muttered angrily.  “They should be apologizing to _you_.  The way they’re treating you-”

He bites off the rest of his sentence when a more senior officer arrives.  But the security team had been forced to complete the rest of the scans on Shiro’s arm under Keith’s steely glare and Shiro couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ever had his back quite like that.

But now, thankfully, they were finally on the plane, and settled in first class no less. Shiro begrudgingly reflects that he should probably thank Lotor for that.

Yeah. First class seats, an all-expenses paid trip and a very gorgeous man that just happens to be his brand-new husband sitting beside him. It could be worse.

“Civilian comfort,” Keith agrees and Shiro is brought back to the present. “Can’t go wrong.”

And civilian hospitality too, as a cart rumbles past and a pretty stewardess hands them both a glass of champagne. Shiro hesitates to take it but he glances at Keith who shrugs, “It’s our honeymoon-“ and takes a sip.

“Oh, you’re the newlyweds we have on board,” the stewardess says.  Her lipstick is blood red against her dark skin and her eyes shine with warmth. She drapes herself over the back of the seats in front of them. “Congratulations! So how did you both meet?”

Shiro is aware of Keith beside him, suddenly frozen to the spot and he stalls for a moment trying to imagine what to say.  Does he go with the truth? _Oh, we met at our wedding, three seconds before the ceremony in fact!_ Or make something up on the spot- 

“Uh, through… through friends,” he coughs out after a beat.  It’s technically not a lie, really.  Keith breathes out something that might have been a sigh of relief.

“Oh? That’s lovely,” the stewardess smiles again. She looks like she wants to say more but the captain’s announcement comes over the speakers and with some final congratulations, she moves away to check the other passengers.

Keith catches his eye.  “I feel like we need a cover story,” he says with slightly pink cheeks.  “I don’t know if I’m up to explaining the whole experiment every time it comes up in conversation.”

Shiro looks down at his hand.  He hasn’t taken the band off since Keith put it here and it seems as thought Keith hasn’t moved his either.  Sometimes it surprises him just how much he likes looking at it, that dark metal band against his pale skin, knowing that Keith has a matching one. It makes him feel a part of something special.

“And a big congratulations to our newlywed couple-“

“Oh my god,” Keith mutters.  He closes his eyes and leans back as though he’s trying to compose himself as the captain’s announcement crackles over the speakers.  “Sometimes I feel like I’m a fraud when strangers get excited over it.  It’s like they hear the word ‘wedding’ and go bonkers.”

Shiro hums in agreement.  It does feel a little bit like that but then again, despite Keith feeling like a fraud, he’s not. They’re not.  Their marriage might not have followed the traditional route but they are no less sincere in the commitment they’ve made each other. 

When he says as much, Keith goes quiet and Shiro can tell he’s still feeling a little uncomfortable. 

“I could kiss you if it made you feel better,” he hears himself offer, partly joking and partly serious. He tries to look confident as he says it but on the inside, his heartbeat kicks up and those damn butterflies in his stomach flutter weakly.

“You know,” Keith answers slowly and it’s calculating.  He’s suddenly eying Shiro like there’s more he wants to do than just kiss and it heats Shiro’s blood to boiling point.  God, how is he ever going to make it through an entire week of being alone with Keith in a tropical paradise _without_ stripping him naked and fucking him into the mattress.

He belatedly hopes Keith doesn’t see that final thought in his eyes.  Not yet.  The last thing he wants is to scare Keith off with too much intensity.  Keith spooks easily, he’s already aware of that.

“We should probably keep up appearances after all,” Keith says.

Shiro’s lips twitch at that. He forces a serious expression to his face but he knows his eyes are smiling. 

“Keep up appearances. Right. I was thinking of helping the experiment along but then how else will we get those upgrades?”

Keith actually laughs at that and a little voice in Shiro’s head cheers.  Then Keith turns to him and there’s a crackle in the air between as their eyes meet.

There it is again, that spark, that _pull._  

He marvels at it but he marvels a beat too long and they’re interrupted by the stewardess collecting their empty champagne glasses before take-off.   

“I hope your timing is better once we get to the island, Shirogane,” Keith grumbles and Shiro has to choke back another bout of laughter.

“I’ll try better next time,” he promises and Keith gripes out something like _you’d better_ and it occurs to him that even though they’re already wearing matching rings, he wants to _woo_ Keith.  He wants to hear that laugh again (hopefully at something Shiro has said), he wants Keith to look at him with that fire in his eyes, the slight lift of his chin offering a challenge.

It’s still a little while until take off and Shiro is trying not to think about the flight too much. He fiddles with the magazines, flipping through the pages but without taking anything in. He half wishes he had something stronger than champagne to drink.  When Keith strikes up another conversation a short time later, he’s immediately relieved.

“Have you traveled much?” Keith asks. He looks completely at ease in his seat. They’ve been on the plane for less than thirty minutes but Keith’s already claimed his space, his headphones sticking out of a seat pocket, the brochures about their honeymoon destination that Lotor had sent with the tickets on his lap and his red jacket shoved between them.  It’s like an explosion of Keith in the small space and Shiro briefly wonders if that is what it will be like to live with him.  If it is, his small orderly townhouse won’t know what hit it.

“A few places,” he answers with a light shrug.  “Always on the Garrison’s dime though, so always on their transports. I think this might be the first time I’ve ever flown commercial come to think of it.”

 _The first I’ve been awake for,_ he thinks. He declines to mention the medivac flights when they were still trying to piece him back together after the accident. Technically they were still garrison transports anyway.  His initial treatments had been through the military hospital.  The prototype came later.

“I learned to fly before I could drive,” Keith says it like he’s embarrassed but it makes Shiro’s eyebrows shoot upwards.

“That’s impressive. Did you go through the local flight school?”

“Yeah. I…” Keith chews his lip, as though debating how much detail to go into. Shiro finds himself hoping that Keith doesn’t hold back.  They’re married now, he wants to know all he can about Keith and a chance to learn about Keith’s piloting background is something he _really_ wants to know.

Keith sighs and lays it out. “When I first found out that I had sisters, I wanted to get to know them.  But they weren’t a great crowd to run with – you probably guessed that already from the wedding.  Kolivan was against me spending any time with them so he sent me off to flight school.  It kept me too busy to spend any time with them and… and I loved it.”

“It’s a bit of a calling,” Shiro murmurs, remembering the pull of the sky and the clouds streaking past as though it was only yesterday and not years ago.  Keith readily agrees.

“So how did you end up being a paramedic?” Shiro asks curiously. “Why don’t you just… fly?”

Keith looks down, then shrugs. Shiro absently admires the way his lean shoulders bunch and drop under Keith’s shirt.   _He really is gorgeous._

“You know how it is. Options are kind of limited and I couldn’t stomach the thought of flying commercial… and aside from that, flying cargo was pretty much my only other option.”

Shiro doesn’t say it but he thinks about the garrison. He would have loved to have seen Keith in one of their jets, he has a feeling it would be a sight to behold.  He makes a mental note to think about sneaking Keith into one of the simulators one night.

“You needed more,” Shiro says softly.  Keith nods.

“There’s no…. there’s no challenge there. These big lumbering jets… it’s like being a glorified bus driver,” he complains then flushes as his eyes dart around the cabin. “No offense to our current pilot,” then he pats the side of the plane as though worried they can hear him in the cockpit.  It makes Shiro laugh.

“I had another uncle,” Keith continues after a moment. “When I was in high school. He got sick and needed a lot of care. When I wasn’t at flight school, I was helping Kolivan and Thace care for him.  He… he was their centre and when he passed away, they almost didn’t make it. But I spent a lot of time with him at hospitals and at home. I learned a lot and… well, becoming a search and rescue paramedic just seemed to fit. I get to combine two things I’m good at and it means I can help people.”

Keith sits up and brushes off an imaginary piece of lint off his dark jeans and just like that, Shiro gets the sense he’s closed himself off.  “Okay, that’s enough about me.  Your turn.”

“Oh,” Shiro startles.  He’d been trying to imagine Keith as a teenager, wondering how quickly he clocked up his hours of flying to get his license.  He must have been, what, fifteen when he started flying solo which means he’s been piloting in some shape or form for almost as long as Shiro has. He clears his throat. “I went through the garrison for my senior schooling and it just made sense to stay. Especially after my grandfather passed, it became the closest thing to home and I’ve been there ever since.”

He doesn’t get much of a chance to elaborate before the stewardess make their final passes to check they’re secure and then the plane is careering down the runway. This is the part that Shiro hates.  The engines roar so loud in his ears and his heart races like it wants to escape his chest. Giving over the controls, imagining what the readouts are-  He has to close his eyes and his fingers curl around the armrest, gripping so hard he’s sure his metal hand might leave an indentation.  Mingled with the anxiety is a smattering of anger.

_You’re a pilot for god’s sake. Get a grip!_

He doesn’t think about how the last time he flew anything but a simulator, he crashed and burned.

He feels the plane lift off and jolt ever so slight, just enough to make his stomach drop and his mind systematically runs through the possible reasons why. As the aircraft climbs, the engines settle into a more comfortable dull drone in the background and a slight shudder rolls through him. 

Something warm is warm against his hand and when he opens his eyes, Keith is covering his hand with his own.  His face is turned towards the window, watching the ground fall away and Shiro can’t see his face.  He’s partly embarrassed at his reaction, but grateful that Keith doesn’t say anything.  Maybe he guessed, maybe it was just a flirtatious move unrelated to Shiro’s anxiety, but either way, Shiro is grateful. He lifts his hand and turns over his palm so that they can twine their fingers together and as he does, Keith turns to him. 

“Thank you,” Shiro whispers it with a croak. Keith lifts their joined hands to brush his lips over the back of Shiro’s palm. It’s barely a kiss but it tells Shiro everything.

 

* * *

 

Keith and Shiro use the long empty hours on the flight to play twenty questions ten times over.  Keith learns that Shiro was born in Tokyo and he moved over with his grandparents when he was three, his obsession with the garrison’s cafeteria’s mac and cheese borders on the unhealthy, he sings in the shower (badly), his favourite movie is a romantic comedy that he refuses to divulge the name of and his birthday falls on a leap year.

With each piece of information, Keith builds the tapestry that makes up his new husband and he finds himself curiously plucking at every thread, keen to learn more.  It’s easy to talk to Shiro, he’s easy going, fiercely intelligent, compassionate and kind. 

Keith is _so_ smitten.

The one thing they skirt around is how Shiro got his arm and the accident that caused his injuries.  Keith doesn’t press, despite his curiosity. 

The flight goes so quickly and before he realises it, they’re prepping to land and they blink at each other in surprise. 

“Almost there,” Shiro murmurs and Keith finds himself reaching out to give Shiro’s hand a squeeze.  He hesitates to pull back and when Shiro tightens his grip, he tugs until Shiro follows in and he brushes his lips over Shiro’s in a quick, easy kiss. 

It should feel weirder to be doing this. It should feel more uncomfortable but it’s not.  Shiro is quickly settling into Keith’s empty spaces and for the first time in a very long time, Keith’s heart is starting to feel lighter than air.

It’s a blur of activity when they finally disembark.  They have to pad across the tarmac of the small airport and the whine and humid wind from the aircraft’s turbines snaps their hair around their faces and prevents them from speaking. Shiro makes up for it by holding Keith’s hand tightly and smiling as other passengers eye their matching rings. 

They’re handed drinks, chilled coconuts with pink umbrellas and straws and whisked away by a stern looking man holding up a sign that reads _Shirogane/Kogane._ He throws their bags into a van and ushers them in.  It’s a whirlwind and Keith finds himself brimming with excitement about their tropical destination, gazing out the window as the villages and rice patties and life wholly different to what he’s used to goes on outside.  The van bumps along uneven roads, leaving the bustle of the small city and snaking into less populated areas with heavy, lush foliage lining each side of the road.  It’s a rough drive and at one point, they have to grip the handles so hard and a pothole almost sends Keith sprawling into Shiro’s lap.  They’re laughing together even as Shiro’s hand goes to his waist to steady him and it stays there for the rest of the trip to the resort. 

“Phew, well, we made it,” Shiro chuckles as their driver pulls up and hops out.  Keith is thrumming with anticipation.  They’d caught a glimpse of the coast on the drive and the beaches looked utterly pristine. Maybe it’s tropical setting or the adrenaline of the harrowing drive from the airport but Keith has a wild desire to just throw his arms around Shiro’s neck and kiss him.

He’s held back from doing that by the door slamming open and they climb out.  There’s a small group of smiling people waiting for them, all dressed in the same uniform, all with the same welcoming smile.  Flowers are draped around their shoulders and they’re handed new drinks, this time in frosted glasses but still with pink umbrellas then escorted through the resort to their own private bungalow.  With bamboo walls under a thatched roof, it sits back a little way from the beach, settled on the pristine white sand with the shimmering azure of the ocean lapping at the shore in the distance. Tall palm trees lend a bit of shade over the bungalow’s front deck and a curtain of lush foliage hides the it from the rest of the resort to give them total privacy.  It’s their own little corner of the world. 

Near the small step of steps that lead up to the bungalow’s entrance is a wooden post carved with two feline shapes entertained together and Keith nods as the resort staff point it out to them.  They had passed other bungalows before reaching this one and he made a mental note to remind himself theirs was the one with the lions if they got turned around after venturing out to explore the island.

They pad up the stairs behind the resort staff, drinks still in hand, swapping shy smiles with each other.  Keith is already picturing them curled up on the daybed on the deck or sharing a meal together at the small table as they watch the sun go down.  He can feel his cheeks heat at the thought and wonders if he can blame it on the drink in his hand.

Inside the bungalow, a rattan rug lines the floorboards that lead to a wide, four poster bed, draped with a gauzy white material that flutters gently under the slow moving fans.  On the other side of the bungalow, there’s a small kitchenette, a long couch and another small dining table that fills the space.  It’s exotic and comfortable and distinctly romantic, even if the bed hadn’t been strewn with rose petals.

“Wow,” Keith looks around, eyes wide. He places his drink down. “This… this is amazing.”

The resort staff put down their bags and leave them to settle in. After a quick exploration of the bungalow, they go back onto the deck.  Keith leans against the post holding up the thatched roof as he absorbs the beautiful location they’ve found themselves in.

It hits him that he’s on his honeymoon. This is the perfect honeymoon destination and he’s here in this tropical paradise with a man he’s already sure he really likes, who he might hope to fall in love with.  It feels like a really big moment, like one he wants to slam the door shut on and back away until he’s bolting in the other direction… until he sees Shiro gaze out to the ocean and Keith reminds himself that he agreed to this.  He _chose_ to do this.  He is determined to make the best of it.

And the best of it is clearly Shiro. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pllleassee feel free to come yell at me on tumblr (flashedarrow) or in the comments about this dumb fic, i'm so keen to hear your thoughts!


	13. and I hope that you don't run from me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> art at the end <3

Keith is still contemplating the experiment as he looks out over the ocean from the vantage point of the bungalow’s deck.  The band on his finger feels warm in the sunlight and there’s no mistaking the subtle thrill of excitement that’s humming in his veins. It would be impossible not to fall in love in a location like this, he thinks. And as scary and as overwhelming as it might be, he’s pretty sure he’s ready for it.

Eventually, Keith manages to drag his eyes away and turns his back on the sparkling water in the distance.  The view from their bungalow is beautiful but there’s a different kind of beauty that catches his eye now and it’s Shiro, looking relaxed and content in bare feet and a pair of black and grey boardshorts.  On his top half, he has a loosely buttoned shirt rolled casually at the wrists and the metal glints in the sunlight.

Keith hadn’t considered how much exposure Shiro’s metallic arm would get in a place like this.  Granted here in their private bungalow with their private beach, it wouldn’t be much of an issue but once they ventured out to explore the island… It might attract attention on a level he’s doubtful Shiro will be comfortable with and Keith wonders how he will need to tread around that.

Right now though, Shiro has his phone in his hand, the camera app open and he takes a few snaps of the view.  Then he glances shyly over at Keith. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Come here.”

When Keith moves closer, Shiro slides his arm around Keith’s waist and leans down a touch so that their heads are together. Keith finds himself reciprocating the easy embrace, looping his arm around Shiro in return. The material of Shiro’s shirt is wafer thin and he can feel Shiro’s muscles ripple with each movement. It makes his mouth goes dry.   

Shiro lifts his phone up and Keith can see their faces on the screen.  Shiro’s smiling and Keith can’t help smiling too as there’s a tiny flutter of nerves against his ribcage. They’ve eased off a lot but there’s still the occasional whirl that reminds Keith how new this still all is, how vulnerable he is.  How much he’s got on the line and just how hurt he could get. It’s a struggle to keep himself open and emotionally available for Shiro and he hopes he can manage it. 

“Our first married selfie,” Shiro says and Keith lets out a half laugh.

“Our first ever selfie, you mean?”

“You’re right. Say cheese,” Shiro replies and there’s the tinny digital sound of a shutter clicking before he drops his hand and straightens up.  When his hand slides away, Keith is a little disappointed at loosing that touch between himself and Shiro so quickly.

For someone who wasn’t a particular fan of close physical contact, Keith is starting to wonder if he’s more touch starved than he thought.  Suddenly he wants to be touching Shiro as often as he possibly can, and he wants Shiro to be touching him. Then again, that might also have something to do with the palpable attraction buzzing vibrantly between them.

“Matt is going to be so jealous,” Shiro continues, as though trying to fill the silence between them. He’s still doing something on his phone and Keith assumes he’s flicking off a few images to Matt.

Keith gives himself a mental shake and reminds himself to take things one step at a time.  It’s only their second day of marriage.  He grins and it occurs to him how much Lance probably would have enjoyed a spot like this.  A chance to get away from their endless rounds of shifts and do nothing but swim and sleep and drink… And he gets to do all that with Shiro.

“Lance has been talking about this honeymoon for weeks. I think he was more excited over it than I was. He threatened to come with me if you didn’t show up for the wedding,” Keith says dryly.

Shiro laughs. “Matt said the same thing.”

“No offence to our best men, but I’m glad you showed up.”

Keith wasn’t sure if he was imagining the sudden heat in Shiro’s eyes. 

“Me too,” Shiro murmurs, his gaze dragging along Keith’s skin.  Okay, he’s definitely not imagining it and his blood heats in response.  “Feel like a swim?”

Keith has been itching to get into the water as soon as he laid eyes on the ocean on their drive from the airport.  “Hell yes. But I should probably check my phone too.”

He ducks back inside the villa, using the time to quickly change into bright red board shorts of his own and digging out his own phone that he’d secreted somewhere in his pile of gear. His hand brushes over the box of supplies Lance had so kindly sent him and his face heats at just the thought of it.  He’s going to have to find somewhere well-hidden in the bungalow to stash that.

His phone is still switched off from the flight so he boots it up and as he’s stepping back onto the deck it starts to vibrate and chirp in his hands.

The notifications swish across his screen in rapid succession. A bunch of missed calls from a number he doesn’t recognize, a couple from Ezor which makes him frown and a text from Lance saying _: If you don’t respond I’ll assume you’re getting laid. You’re welcome!_

He ignores the missed call notifications and takes a few snaps of the beach for Lance and sends them off.  He’s about to dump his phone again, keen to actually hit the beach when his phone rings with a video call from Lance.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in why don’t you. Showing off your tropical paradise while the rest of us are slaving away-“ Lance is already complaining as soon as Keith answers the call. 

“Hurry up and get married yourself then,” Keith retorts but he’s grinning. “I’m sure Allura won’t mind.”

“Pfft, you know that woman loves to make me wait. I had to propose three times just to get her to say yes.”  Lance looks over at something offscreen and yells “LOVE YOU, BABE!” before turning back. “So… how’s it going anyway? Did you get my deli-“

“Yes!” Keith hurriedly cuts him off, casting a sideways glance at Shiro. “And I’m gonna kill you when I get back,” Keith promises with a low hiss.

“The words you’re looking for are ‘thank you, Lance’.  Just don’t think of me too hard when you’re, you know-“ Lance waggles his eyebrows salaciously.

“Dude, stop talking. Oh my god.”

Keith cringes hard in embarrassment aware that Shiro’s only a few meters away. When Keith glances over, he sees Shiro’s shoulders shaking with silent laughter. On the phone screen, Lance frowns then realisation dawns.  “Oh, shit, is Shiro there?”

“Yes, Lance.  I’m not alone on my honeymoon,” Keith deadpans then he beckons Shiro over, his face apologetic. Shiro’s grinning as he comes close.  Thank god, at least he’s got a sense of humour. 

“Hey, Lance,” Shiro gives Lance a little wave from over Keith’s shoulder.

It suddenly feels very…. Couple-y to be taking the call together like this with Shiro broad and warm at Keith’s back. Shiro has to lean down a little to line his face up with Keith’s for the call and Keith is suddenly very aware of the faint scent of Shiro’s cologne and it makes something twist inside him. The way his body reacts almost feels like a betrayal, he’s so powerless to his attraction and it makes him nervous. He didn’t sign up for this experiment to just get laid (as Lance puts it) but for a deeper connection. He never thought an obvious chemistry could be a hindrance.

Slow.  Just go slow. It’s like a mantra.

Lance greets Shiro back and the camera zooms out a little to show Allura in the background.  That’s when Keith realises that the both of them are dressed in their dark blue paramedic uniforms.

“Wait, are you working?” he demands.

Lance should have had the weekend off, they’d had to work hard enough to wrangle it at such short notice with the experiment organisers not keen on a big build up to the wedding.  Luckily, they were able to find another team that owed them a few swapped shifts so they were able to take the time off for the wedding.  Keith had assumed Lance and Allura would have been having a mini-break of their own and felt bad that they weren’t, especially with everything they’d had to do in the lead up.

“Yeah,” Lance pulls a face.  “Rolo called in sick. Sick my ass…. I reckon he’s probably just catching gnarly some waves somewhere” – Lance mocks an imitation of a surfer then his face turns kind of sulky and he shrugs. “So much for a weekend off.”

“Sorry, man. I know how much you were looking forward to it.”

“Nah, it’s cool, I’ll suffer in the name of love-“ Keith snorts at that and Lance grins. “Seriously, I just hope you guys are having a good time and getting to know each other. Hunk and I have plans to catch up so you’d better make it work or our weekly dinner parties are going to get hella awkward.”

“No pressure,” Keith mutters.

“Come on, we all saw how into each other you guys were at the wedding. Have you kissed him again yet? Shiro! Has he kissed you aga-“

“What? What was that? Reception is really bad here, you’re breaking up-“ Shiro starts to laugh as Keith jostles the phone. “Sorry, buddy, can’t hear you-“

Keith hangs up, but not before Lance manages to yell out something about more kissing and razzle dazzling and Keith’s cheeks are pink from mortification.  Shiro’s still trying to keep a straight face and Keith has to give him credit for not being too bothered by Lance’s humour.

Barely a moment later, his phone beeps again, this time with a photo of one of the training mannequins in the front seat of one of their vans, a uniformed cap on its head and its hands flopped on the steering wheel. The message with it reads: _My co-pilot for the evening…. Talks about as much as you. Probably a better driver too._

“Idiot,” Keith laughs under his breath and lifts his phone up to show Shiro the image.  He has to squint slightly to see the digital screen in the bright sunshine but then he chuckles.

“He loves riling you up, doesn’t he?”

“Yep,” Keith rolls his eyes. Lance has zero boundaries and Keith has too many.  Somehow, their friendship works. “Lance is…”  Keith searches through his mind for the right word before giving up and shrugging, “Lance.”

“You know, if this marriage works out, Matt and Lance might end up spending a lot more time around each other, I’m not sure we’ll survive. Is death by embarrassment a thing?”

Keith tries to ignore the little pang in his chest at Shiro’s use of the word _if._  

“If it is, I’m pretty sure I’ve died multiple deaths just by being in the same room as Lance,” he says wryly.  He doesn’t mean it though, if it wasn’t for Lance, his entire life would be nothing but work, work, work. 

He certainly wouldn’t be here alone on this beautiful beach with a very beautiful man with the risk of having his heart very, very broken, that’s for sure.

 

* * *

 

They don’t waste any more time heading down to the beach. Keith had confessed on the flight that this will be his first decent break from his job in years and Shiro realises this will be the first real holiday he’s had since… well, forever.  It makes him realise how much of his life he’d put on hold since starting his life at the garrison and then the accident.  No wonder he had to resort to an extreme social experiment to have any hope of meeting someone special.

Shiro wades into the water and it’s cool against his skin and its relief to have the weight taken off his shoulder. Sitting in the same position for so long on the flight could make it uncomfortable and sore and having the added support of the water eases some of the pressure on his joints.  Even his shirt, soaked through and clinging like a second skin doesn’t bother him.

God, but when was the last time he’d ever been in the ocean like this? He can’t even remember. He tilts his face up to the sun to take in the rays, tastes the salt on his lips.  He looks over at Keith, floating a few meters away, hair slicked back from diving under, then floating on his back as they bob in the waves.  Looking back at the shore, he can see their bungalow amongst the lush green foliage lining the beach.  In the distance, the rooftops of the rest of the resort is barely visible and it really feels like this part of the earth has been created just for them. 

He slides closer to Keith in the water and the other man flicks his hair back and looks at him with a grin.  Shiro can’t help but notice the lines of his limbs, lean and sharp.  He already wants to mouth the line of Keith’s collarbones, lap the salt water from his skin.  It’s a good thing the water is cool enough to at least hide his body’s reaction.

Keith splashes him and they end up play fighting in the water and Shiro feels the years melt away.  He is just shy of thirty but sometimes he feels decades older. Each year the cadets coming through the garrison seem younger and younger to the point he often felt like he should be tucking them into bed with warm milk and a pat on the head, not teaching them how to barrel roll and dog fight in multimillion dollar fighter jets.  God help them if they ever had to go to war.

“Hey,” Keith bobs closer, trailing his fingers over the surface of the water.  “Is it bothering you?” he asks, with a nod to Shiro’s arm. Shiro hadn’t realised he’d been rubbing his shoulder in the water and Shiro glances down. Under the waves, the metal shimmers and sparkles around his hand and wrist.  The rest of it is muted by the shirt.  If he raised his bare arm above the water, he’s pretty sure the reflection off the metal would blind them both.

“It’s okay, the water helps with the weight. It’s just a bit sore from the flight.”

“I didn’t know you could get it submerged like that.  That’s some prototype.”

“Hunk’s a tech genius.  He’s come up with some amazing stuff. I’m lucky he’s been able to create this for me.  Things would be a lot different for me if he hadn’t.”

“Does it mean you can fly again?”

The unexpected question makes Shiro’s stomach drop but Keith couldn’t know how much his query unsettles him. Not because Keith _asked_ , they’re trying to get to know each other after all (and the arm is hard to ignore), but because Shiro honestly doesn’t like thinking about the answer to it.

He can fly again with the arm but… he’s just not sure if he wants to.

Keith seems to catch on quickly that it’s an uncomfortable subject because he gives a small shrug and smiles apologetically.

“Sorry, don’t mean to pry,” and before Shiro can answer, to reassure him it’s okay, Keith’s dipping under a wave then shaking the water from his head. 

It takes a few moments for Shiro to let the tension go.  Even when Keith changes the subject to something inane, he’s still subconsciously waiting for Keith to circle back to it.  When Shiro realises that he’s not going to pry, he finally relaxes and lets himself float in the water again.

The long day of travel starts to catch up with him and he motions to Keith that he’s going to head back to the bungalow and dry off.  Keith follows him and by the time they’re both dry, they’re already halfway through the drinks Keith raided from the mini-bar.  Shiro notices Keith eyeing the wide hammock tied between two of the palm trees in front of the bungalow.  It certainly looks inviting, especially the warm buzz of their drinks in his veins, the view of the water and the cool late afternoon breeze skittering over their salt crusted skin.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Keith asks as he climbs to his feet and pads across the sand to the hammock.  Shiro downs the rest of his drink (which he suspects may have been a mistake considering how mellow he suddenly feels) and goes to join him.

“Is that thing going to hold the both of us?”

He falters realising it was probably presumptuous of him to simply assume Keith wanted him to climb in too. He had an image of Keith tucked against his side in the middle of the hammock, the two of them dozing the afternoon away.

“Only one way to find out-“

Keith manages to climb in without toppling over the other side but it’s touch and go. He grins triumphantly once he’s in and Shiro realises that Keith is a little buzzed too.  Guess that’s what happens when you skip lunch and go straight to the cocktails, he thinks.

Keith picks up one of the striped cushions and shoves it behind his head. He looks over at Shiro, standing a little awkwardly to the side and pats the netting.  “Room for you too,” he adds and his gaze is a little dark, enough to make Shiro’s heartbeat kick up a notch. 

It’s a comedy of errors when Shiro’s extra weight jostles Keith and the hammock swings dangerously enough that Shiro has to catch him just before he hits the sand.

“Well that wasn’t as smooth as I wanted it to be,” Keith complains as Shiro hauls him back up choking back a laugh. Then they sink into the middle of the hammock and wait for it to stop swinging but every time one of them shifts to get comfortable, it rocks wildly and they crack up laughing. 

“Were you going for smooth?” Shiro asks.

He manages to lean back without bouncing the hammock too much but it doesn’t leave a lot of space for Keith.  If Keith inches to the side, he’ll fall out again so he ends up arranging himself half over Shiro’s chest and it’s a little awkward. There’s no such thing as personal space in the hammock, something he should have realised before climbing in, especially when he can feel Keith’s shoulders tight with tension.

“And failing,” Keith eventually answers. It’s a basically a mutter under his breath and Shiro isn’t sure he was supposed to have heard it. It makes him want to laugh at how put out Keith sounds and the now familiar rush of warmth blooms in his chest at the thought that Keith cares enough to try to impress him.  Wherever this budding relationship was going, it at least feels like it’s going in the right direction.

Keith shifts again as though determined to give Shiro some space in the hammock until it seems like he gives up and drops his head to Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro has to restrain himself from running his fingers through Keith’s hair.  He’s warm from the sun and salty from the sea and Shiro marvels again how easy it feels to have Keith curled up against him.

There’s a few long, lazy moments where there’s nothing but the sounds of the waves on one side and the whistle and chirps of the local birds in the foliage behind the bungalow on the other.  The afternoon breeze off the water feels cool on their skin and Shiro finds himself getting drowsy and his hand slides across Keith’s bare abdomen without thinking.

“Why does it feel like I’ve known you for a lot longer than a day?” Keith finally muses. His voice is sweetly low and sleepy, but the abrupt stiffening of his shoulders tells Shiro that Keith probably didn’t mean to say those words out loud. 

“It does feel that way,” Shiro agrees softly and he wants to smooth away that tension. His eyes are closed and he feels relaxed to the point of being boneless. And oddly indulgent. “Maybe we knew each other in another life.”

Keith shifts and Shiro opens his eyes. Keith is leaning over him, eyes dark and his lips slightly parted.  The attraction hits him again in full force and it seems to hit Keith as well because suddenly there’s the warm blush of Keith’s breath a heartbeat before their mouths find each other. Maybe it’s the exposure from the sun and sea, or maybe it’s the fact there’s no one here to watch them now but the kiss is soft and slow.  It’s just them and the gently swaying palm fronds casting shadows over the sand.

The soft slide of Keith’s lips against his own has him melting. He slides one hand up over the heated skin of Keith’s back, over his shoulder and trails up over the line of his collarbone to land gently against the side of Keith’s jaw.  Shiro anchors him there, kissing up into him, lips pressed together until Shiro’s tongue gently probes for entrance. It’s probably wading into dangerous waters, kissing Keith has him drunk in ways that has nothing to do with the alcohol consumed earlier. There’s something half hard pressing against his thigh and he doesn’t need to open his eyes to know what it is.  It makes him unreasonably pleased and a little bit smug.  It’s comforting to know that the physical reactions between them haven’t been one sided. 

Keith leans more into him and Shiro hums slightly in satisfaction when Keith suddenly takes the lead, deepening their kiss, pressing into him until the only thing Shiro can taste is Keith, the only thing he can breathe is Keith and he’s losing himself- 

Until Keith shifts sharply, attempting to hook his thigh over Shiro’s hip and the whole hammock sways violently enough with the motion to make them both break apart and grab at the sides to hold on.

There’s a heartbeat where they look at each other and blink, hearts racing from their kiss and mild adrenaline of the threatened fall.

“Shit,” Keith mumbles. He’s breathing heavily, eyes wide.  “I need a cold shower,” and before Shiro can blink, Keith is trying to untangle himself enough to slide off the hammock but ends up tumbling out and landing heavily on his ass in the sand. Shiro cracks up.

“Are you okay?” he’s laughing as Keith climbs to his feet, dusting the sand off. Keith should look sheepish but he just looks kind of mad and the frown lines between his dark brows and the tight line of his lips makes Shiro think _god, he’s fucking adorable._  

Keith flicks his hair out of his eyes as Shiro continues to chuckle and Shiro catches a glimpse of a twitch of his mouth. Good to know Keith doesn’t take himself _that_ seriously.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up big guy,” Keith mock growls as Shiro snickers again. “I need another drink.”

He turns and stalks off towards the bungalow as Shiro leans back and closes his eyes, still chuckling with a grin on his lips.

 

* * *

 

Keith’s phone is trilling as he crosses the sand to their bungalow.  It’s barely able to be heard over the noises of the beach but he’s trained himself to listen out for it.  He’s often on call at work, ready to pick up any slack or back up their teams on the shifts they need the extra help.  He likes to make sure they can always reach him. It’s not like he has much else pressing issues taking up his time.

Work, sleep, eat.  Rinse and repeat.

Floating on the surface of the gentle rolling waves, the sun on his face and the tang of salt on his lips really brought home how empty his life was back home.  He hadn’t realised it before.  When he wasn’t working, he was thinking about work, or training for work and he could count on one hand the amount of people he considered to be true friends. Also, all from work.

Wow.  He really needed to shake up his life but then again, how much more could you shake it up by marrying and tying yourself to a complete stranger?

A complete stranger that he seems to have an apparently uncontainable sensual chemistry with.

If he hadn’t jostled the hammock when he did, he’s pretty sure the kiss would have gone a lot further – his whole unconscious intention when he moved was to be able to grind himself closer to Shiro and shove his tongue a little deeper into his mouth.  Maybe it’s just been so damn long since he’s had any kind of partner or maybe the connection with Shiro really is the stuff of fairy tales, but he’s almost uneasy with how far he was ready to throw himself into that kiss. He wondered what Shiro thought but the memory of that hardness against his belly as they kissed couldn’t be denied and he’s suddenly half frustrated and half glad that it had unfolded the way it did.

 _Shit._ He really does need that cold shower, he thinks as he lopes up the few stairs to the deck and snatches up his phone.

He frowns at the number; the same one he didn’t recognize from earlier and hits decline. Anyone who was important enough to him that he would actually take the call was already programmed into his phone so he shrugged to himself and put the unknown number down to an overzealous telemarketer, although it was weird that his message bank was empty.

He dumps the phone again and pads inside, walking over the straw mats to the bar fridge and picking out fresh drinks for them both. 

When he gets back to the hammock, Shiro is asleep.

* * *

 

art by [hyteri](http://hyteriart.tumblr.com/post/170988980891/been-away-for-a-bit-with-a-broken-laptop-finally)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, please come yell at me about this fic on tumblr (flashedarrow) or in the comments! I love getting them :)


	14. bring your secrets, bring your scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike of the "Honeymoon Box".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are actual questions used on the show btw... this whole chapter is totes awkies I'm so sorry

When Shiro wakes, the sun is setting and the resort staff are back and building a small bonfire on the beach. A table and chairs have been set up on the sand in front of their bungalow and Shiro can see a figure by the water. The lean lines, red board shorts and dark hair tell him it’s Keith.

He must have slept for a few hours and he rubs a hand over his face to wake himself up. By the time he’s slipped inside the bungalow to freshen up and throw on a clean shirt, Keith is back on the deck with another lazy cocktail, a tattered paperback in his hands and he’s reclining on the daybed.

“Hey,” Keith greets him with a smile that’s almost shy and Shiro is vividly reminded of their kiss in the hammock.

“Hey, how long was I out?”

Keith shrugs.  “About an hour or so. Not too long. You look like you needed it.” 

“Guess I did, thanks.”

Keith puts down the paperback and scoots over to make room for Shiro but not before he gestures to the tray on the small table. Another drink, the same as what Keith appears to be drinking waits there for him.  “Still cold,” Keith grins.

Shiro briefly debates the merit of drinking more alcoholic drinks on a still empty stomach but decides he’s on his honeymoon and what the hell, they’ll eat soon enough. He takes a seat next to Keith with his drink in hand and watches as the resort staff on the beach as they prepare a meal just for them.

“I feel kind of bad,” Keith says after a moment.  “Like I should go down there and help them.  I tried, but they sent me away.”

“Not used to being waited on, huh?” Shiro comments with a smile and Keith shakes his head.

“Always done things for myself.  This feels… weird.”

“Guess we should enjoy it,” Shiro says after moment.  He takes a sip from his glass and the drink is sweet and burns low in his gut.  He looks at it appraisingly, as though he can pick out the individual ingredients just by staring at it. “Wow, that packs a punch.”

“Pretty sure I’m drunk right now,” Keith grins and Shiro has to laugh because he does look kind of buzzed.  It’s pretty obvious they’ve both been using liquid courage to ease their nerves with each other and he knows it’s not something that will be able to continue once they get back to the real world.  For now though, anything that helps ease the transition from strangers to husbands seems to be a good thing.

Although, not too much, because if they end up sharing another kiss like they did earlier, Shiro’s pretty sure it will be all over embarrassingly early.  He clears his throat a little in an effort to hide the direction his thoughts have gone.  

“Well, when in Rome,” he gives a little shrug and settles back on the daybed next to Keith.

They sit there lazily watching the sun dip even lower on the horizon.  The orange of the sunset rapidly turns the world pink and purple and they eventually get ushered to the table on the sand by the kindly smiling resort staff. Shiro manages to convey their thanks before they pack up their gear and melt into the shadows to let the newlyweds to enjoy their meal alone. 

They take their seats at the table, a tealight candle flickering beside a small bunch of fragrant flowers in the centre. It feels surprisingly decadent to be able to dig his toes into the still warm sand even as the air cools around them.  Their chairs are angled to the view of the beach and beside him, Keith looks relaxed with his hair scooped back from his face, all salt licked and dark. He’s thrown on a white shirt that makes his skin look like he’s already received a touch of a tan and his ring glints in the candlelight as he fiddles with the steam of his glass.

It’s still a little surreal to see that band there on his finger, to realise there’s a matching one on Shiro’s own and to be where he is, who he’s with… Shiro so very grateful Matt and Katie stumbled across the experiment and encouraged him to try because instead of sitting in his small townhouse, watching boring reruns and eating a microwave meal alone, he’s here.  He’s here sitting beside his husband, a tropical breeze on his face, a cocktail in hand and a heart that feels bigger in his chest with every moment that goes on.

They seem to fall into another version of twenty questions like they did on the flight as they eat, easy conversation that explores the surfaces of their lives and in what areas they might come together, link up with or diverge from.  Keith is sharing insight on his job now, what a typical shift might involve for him and Lance. Not that there’s really much typical in their line of work Shiro is starting to realise.

“… it’s a running joke for us,” Keith is saying and Shiro forces himself to tune back in.  “We can’t fix stupid but we can sedate it.”

Shiro laughs and Keith rewards him with a sloppy grin.  “Some call outs are out of this world, it’s pretty incredible.”

“Some must be bad, though?”

“Yeah,” and Keith goes a little quiet.  He turns to look out over the ocean, a rolling mass of black with only the shimmer of the moonlight on it.  “I’d rather take a belligerent old drunk trying to grope me over a fatality any day.”

They’re just finishing up their meal when Keith’s phone trills but he quickly snatches it up to silence it without answering.

“You can get that, you know. I don’t mind.”

Keith hesitates briefly then shakes his head as he frowns at it.  “It’s nothing, probably some annoying telemarketer.”

Shiro starts to feel the day of travel and swimming catching up with him despite his earlier nap in the hammock.  A short time later, the meal is cleared away and one of the staff places a box on the table between them and backs away silently. 

“What’s this?” he asks curiously, putting down his drink to reach for it but the staff don’t answer and they melt into the darkness once again. This time Shiro knows they won’t be coming back and they’re alone again in their private bungalow on the sand and it’s so quiet with only the rolling waves of the ocean and the buzz of distant insects for company.

Keith eyes the box with distaste as Shiro draws it closer to himself. It looks a lot like the one they received in their hotel room that held the video camera. 

“I bet that has Lotor written all over it,” Keith say dully.

Shiro picks up the note attached to the box and reads it out loud. 

“The honeymoon is an integral phase your relationship. This is your first opportunity to drop your guard and show your new spouse who you really are. These questions are designed to help that process.”

He looks over at Keith who seems less than impressed. Shiro doesn’t blame him. It was easy to forget they were part of an experiment sometimes. Being sent boxes of instructions at random intervals tended to kill the mood.

He opens the box and pulls out the first card. Keith is watching him carefully and Shiro’s pretty sure Keith’s stomach is rolling just as much as his own. Shiro would have preferred to let things happen organically between them but then they both knew this experiment would be a pressure cooker environment and what a normal couple would go through in a year, it was expected they would go through in a matter of weeks. 

“What were your first impressions when you first laid eyes on me?” Shiro reads out then sighs.  He throws Keith a glance. “I might need another drink for this,” he says ruefully.

Keith ducks his head before he answers but Shiro can see the corner of a smile through his hair and his own lips twitch in return. He remembers those first nervous minutes when he was anxious for Keith to walk up that aisle. He’s pretty sure Keith liked what he saw as much as he did when he first laid eyes on Keith so he’s hopeful Keith isn’t about to just pull the rug out from under him. Strange to think that their first meeting and wedding was only yesterday. 

“Tall, dark and mysterious?” Keith offers and that makes Shiro laugh.

“I can live with that,” he jokes and then plucks out another card.  “Oh, this will be good. What’s something you’ve never told anyone before?”

He looks expectantly at Keith who squirms.  “Come on,” he encourages as his heart thumps in anticipation.  “Spill.”

“Er,” and suddenly Keith looks a little bit like a cornered animal.  Shiro takes pity on him.

“Do you want a pass?”

“Yes!”

Keith says it a little too eagerly to be smooth and Shiro almost regrets letting him off so easy.  He already knows he wants to learn all of Keith’s secrets and was prepared to take the time to do it but… Well, he just has to be patient, he reminds himself.

Before he can take out another card, Keith reaches for the box and plucks out a card himself.  He raises his eyebrow as he eyes Shiro and reads it out loud.

“What is one thing I should know about you?”

“Hmm,” Shiro taps his chin thoughtfully.  “Well I have a cat, so I hope you’re not allergic.”

Keith grins at him.  “Nope, I have one too. Or I used to.”

Shiro blinks at that and immediately feels contrite.  Did Keith’s cat pass away? Is that what he meant?

“Oh, I’m… I’m sorry-“

Keith waves him off. “No, nothing like that. I just wasn’t home very often and I think she was lonely so she lives with Lance and Allura now.”

Oh. Shiro’s relived to hear that and it makes him think of his own cat.  Probably being spoiled to death with tasty morsels if Hunk has anything to say on the matter.  “Do you miss her?”

“Yeah,” Keith says and his tone is a little bit wistful. “I found her one day on a job and she just about scratched my face off. She warmed up eventually though. What’s yours like?”

“He’s a bit like that too. Doesn’t really like anyone except for me.”

It hangs a in the air unspoken between them.  Would his like Keith? Tolerate him at least?  It was one of the conditions of the experiment that Keith would move from his small unit into Shiro’s townhouse once they got back from their honeymoon, which meant that his cat would have to get used to having another human around.  Shiro hopes he’s not going to have to think about having to choose between his cat and his husband.

“I hope that won’t be a problem,” Keith says.  “What’s his name?”

“Black.”

“No,” Keith presses. “Not his colour, his name.”

“Black is his name.”

Keith frowns. “Wait, you named your cat after a colour? Is he actually black or is that…?”

Shiro feels a little defensive at that. So, he’s not great with names, but Black was a hell of a lot better than some of the names Matt suggested and Shiro’s suddenly _extremely_ grateful he didn’t go with Matt’s top suggestion of BattleScar GalactiCat because he’s pretty sure Keith might divorce him on the spot for that.

“Yes, he’s black. With white paws,” he mutters and slides the box of questions back to his side of the table. He pretends not to see Keith’s shoulders shaking as he laughs under his breath.

“Okay, flyboy,” Shiro says and it comes out mildly irritable.  “Next question. Are you ready?”

He pulls out another card just as Keith mutters “Flyboy?!” indignantly and he draws in a breath as he reads the words.  Damn, but Lotor isn’t pulling any punches with these questions. 

He must stare at the card for a moment too long because Keith goes still beside him. Shiro glances at him then clears his throat. He can feel his heart thud in his chest and his cheeks feel warm.

“Am I your type… physically?”

Keith pauses for a moment and Shiro tries to watch his face closely without being too overt about it. Obviously, he’s very interested to hear Keith’s answer to this and he takes heart in the fact that Keith is almost blushing when he answers.

“Yes,” Keith spits it out grudgingly as he turns his face into Shiro’s shoulder in embarrassment. Shiro has to hold himself back from kissing him. He settles for plastering a stupid grin on his face instead.

Even with his scars, his non-human parts, Keith is still into him. It’s a weight off his shoulders and for the first time in a long time, Shiro starts to feel like more than just his past traumas. If nothing else comes out of this experiment, if he and Keith don’t work out, at least he can carry that with him.  That hope that one day he’ll just be seen as himself and not a sum of broken parts.

He strokes one hand over Keith’s hair, and there’s a handful of beats before Keith pulls back and shakes himself off.

“Don’t go getting all full of yourself now,” Keith mutters and Shiro laughs. He can’t keep the grin off his face and he’s pretty sure it has nothing to do with the cocktails from earlier and everything to do with the way he feels light enough to float away. 

He leans in, his lips near Keith’s ear. “You think I’m sexy-“

Keith’s eyes go wide and he makes a strangled sound. “Don’t-“

“You want to date me-“

Keith snorts and elbows him in the ribs. “That ship has sailed,” Keith grumbles and then something like a pout forms on his lips.  It’s pretty cute and Shiro can’t help himself from leaning over and capturing Keith’s mouth with his own and he’s vindicated when Keith’s hand goes to his nape and he’s pulled harder against him.

It would have been so easy to keep kissing him.  Keith tastes like the ocean breeze and sweet from the drink he was consuming and Shiro’s heart feels big in his chest, like the bonds weaving them together have strengthened a hundred-fold by sharing the answers to these questions. That was the point of them he supposed, and already he feels Keith seeping into all the empty parts of him.

How was it that this time a week ago, he didn’t even know Keith existed?

He pulls away from the kiss gently, gratified to see Keith’s eyes are slightly glazed over.  With his lips slightly parted and pink from their contact, he looks undeniably beautiful and it takes a monumental effort for Shiro not to lean into more.

“Maybe these questions aren’t so bad,” Keith says on the exhale of a breath and Shiro smiles.

“One left, do you want to do the honours?”  Shiro nudges the box over and Keith takes out the last card.  They share another little smile and then Keith holds it up.

“Do you want to have children?” Keith’s voice falters as he reads it and it takes Shiro a brief moment to focus on it. Keith ducks his head and just like that the mood between them changes.

Children. Just the thought of it is enough to flatten him. He has the sudden mental image of Keith and himself, older and wiser with a couple of kids and it makes something twist so sharply in his chest he forgets to breathe.  He doesn’t know if he wants to be a parent, he’s sure he’s probably too broken to raise a child but the thought of undertaking that with Keith has something deep inside him stirring.

“I… I honestly don’t know,” he answers after a long beat.  Keith still hasn’t looked up and he’s not sure what that means.  “I haven’t really thought about it but… I suppose, maybe one day?”

Keith nods and slides the card back into the box and shutting the lid. He suddenly looks uncomfortable and the earlier easy banter that had flowed so easily between them is gone. Shiro hesitates, not sure if he should but then he asks:  “What about you?”

Keith’s goes so quiet and still that Shiro isn’t sure he’s going to respond until he reaches for his glass and takes a sip of his drink. He’s buying himself time before he answers and Shiro feels on edge although he’s not exactly sure why. He’d always thought that if he met the right person, then a home and a family would follow eventually. It was just something that he figured would happen when the time was right – it was too far off to think too deeply about, just a blur in his thoughts. Would it matter so much if their family was just the two of them?  Shiro doesn’t think it would but the stillness from Keith makes him think otherwise.

“No,” Keith eventually says. He speaks firmly, almost angrily, as though throwing the word out as a challenge.  “No, I don’t.”

He doesn’t offer an explanation but he lifts his eyes to stare at Shiro. There’s a combative fire in his gaze that takes him aback. Did Keith expect him to be angry?  “Is that a deal breaker for you?” Keith demands and realisation dawns.

Before Keith can build up his walls again, or worse, bolt from the table, Shiro takes his hand and curls their fingers together. The tablecloth is scratchy under their palms and Keith’s shoulders are tense. He almost tries to snatch his hand back but Shiro holds on.

“Keith,” he says firmly. “It’s not a deal breaker.  Not even a big deal. Honestly. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Keith’s mouth opens as though he wants to say something but he thinks better of it and he snaps his jaw shut. He nods once, but it’s jerky and Shiro casts around for a way to banish the tension.     

But he can’t get the image of a family out of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I had an awesome and beautiful black and white tuxedo cat called Bailey Tarquinius Superbus BattleScar GalacitCat (*cue embarrassment*) who passed last year so I wanted to work him in somehow. Ugh, I miss him every day.


	15. stars don't disappear, they keep blazing

They can’t seem to regain their easy equilibrium after the question about children comes up so when Shiro suggests a walk along the beach before they turn in for the night, Keith all but jumps at the chance.

Somehow, the darkness takes away the sting but he’s still thinking about the image that appeared unbidden in his mind of Shiro with a child ( _his_ child) and it hurts when Keith realises he’s not in it. How could he possibly be? He wouldn’t know _how_ to be a parent, it’s not like he had it modelled to him outside of saccharine tv sitcoms.

Thace and Kolivan, and Antok when he was alive - his uncles had done their best, they really had and Keith would be forever grateful to them, but they had been battle-weary soldiers who had no idea what to do with the angry toddler that grew into an even angrier teenager.

They’d been there for him as much as they could between deployments but it was one attempted stint at boarding school that had Keith expelled within a week that forced Thace to be the first one to retire.  Keith had been eleven and refused to give up the knife under his pillow and Kolivan couldn’t even be pissed about it since he was the one who’d given Keith the blade in the first place. 

So, his uncles had rearranged their warrior lifestyles for him, three men who had been bred for and known nothing but war suddenly having to play house, ferry him to and from school and deal with homework and tears and tantrums and all that came with raising a child.

And talking about their feelings. Nope, that never happened.  Thace had tried but Kolivan would just sit silently and point him in the direction of the sparring mat. No talking, just sparring. And it worked… sometimes.

Keith loved his uncles, he was indebted to them but a tiny, quiet, selfish part of him he refused to acknowledge always wondered: _why didn’t she take me with her?_

The silence between Shiro and himself feels heavier and more oppressive the further they venture away from the bonfire and the bungalow’s glow. The sand is still warm under their feet and the ocean kisses their toes as they walk along the shoreline and all Keith really wants to do is reach for Shiro’s hand, but he’s hesitant, his mind still back at the table occupied with the box of questions.

It suddenly feels like there is a void between them that is larger than the rolling ocean and he needs to find a way to bridge it so his stomach stops sinking. 

“It’s not that I don’t like kids,” he blurts out abruptly and he runs an agitated hand through his hair.  It’s still stiff with sea salt from their swim earlier and his fingers snag in the strands.  “It’s just that… I don’t think I could ever… I wouldn’t know how to be a parent. I… I wouldn’t be able to get it right.”

Keith thinks about how empty he’s life has been up until this moment. It had to be a similar story for Shiro too, why else would he sign up for this?  The only reason Keith had any connections outside of his job was because Lance crashed into his life one day and simply refused to leave.

“It’s not something we have to decide on the spot, Keith,” Shiro answers quietly. His footsteps slow and eventually come to a stop.  “We’ll figure it out together. Like we’re figuring all of this out.”

Keith looks away, his gaze going to the water and from here it looks like it goes on for eternity, an endless, encompassing black. It’s a bit like how he imagines space might be. He curls his arms protectively around himself.

“I don’t want to waste your time if that’s what you really want out of this… experiment.”

He hates how the words taste like ash in his mouth. Is it seriously the second day of his marriage and he is already offering Shiro a way out? Yeah, it seems he is. Better to end it early rather than get too attached-

“I don’t know what I really want,” Shiro interrupts his thoughts and his voice carries a touch of frustration. “Other than I want this marriage to work. I want to give us a real shot, Keith. But we can’t do that if you’re already looking for a chance to leave.”

“It’s not that,” Keith mutters but that nasty voice in the back of his mind sits up and cackles loudly. _Liar, liar, liar!_   He has to shake himself to force it down.

It’s not lost on Keith the way Shiro chooses the word _marriage_ over _experiment_. He’s not sure what it means exactly but somehow, he feels the slightest bit better, even if he’s scared.  He’s man enough to admit it and even with the weeks of mentally trying to prepare himself to be open to his match, he’s scared of opening up to Shiro. He’s fucking terrified of laying everything out on the table and having Shiro walk away.

He feels so tired then and the long day of travel, the swim, the cocktails and dinner hits him like a brick. He reminds himself he needs to pull his head in before he does any kind of irreputable damage so he tries to speak but Shiro sighs and Keith barely hears it over the rolls of the ocean.  

“It’s late, maybe we should head back. We’ve walked so far I can’t even see the bungalow now.”

Keith glances back in surprise. The beach is illuminated only by the moon and stars draped high in the sky above their heads. Shiro was right, there was no sign of the bungalow in the distance.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says and suddenly the bungalow feels like a long way away.  

They pivot on the sand and start walking back.  Shiro matches his stride again and then reaches for his hand, twining their fingers together in the darkness and Keith releases the tension he hadn’t realised was choking him.  He’s so grateful for the contact, it steadies something inside him and he thinks about the promises he made only yesterday.  He squeezes Shiro’s hand tightly and Shiro squeezes back and that squeeze tells him a lot. 

_It’s okay, we’ll figure it out._

“I wish I had my telescope,” Shiro says quietly after they’ve walked for a little while. Neither of them seem to be in a particular hurry and they end up meandering back along the shore, both lost in their own thoughts even as their fingers remain linked.  Keith can make out the silhouette of Shiro’s face tilted up towards the sparkling heavens.  “The stars are so bright out here.”

“Telescope?” Keith questions. He’s thinking about pinpricks of light above them and the way the moonlight washes over Shiro’s jaw.  He must be more tired than he realises when the fanciful notion that Shiro is made of starlight floats through his head. 

“Mmm,” Shiro hums in answer. “The reason I went to the garrison instead of the air force was because I wanted to go to space but this is closest I will ever be able to get to it now,” he says and Keith’s heart twangs in his chest.  His eyes fall to Shiro’s arm, dark in the moonshine and he’s almost tempted to ask about the story behind it but he doesn’t. 

“I’m sorry,” he says it softly and Shiro seems to know what he’s thinking.  His shoulders rolls slightly in a careless shrug but Keith suspects it might just be a front.

“It is what it is,” Shiro says and there’s no self-pity in his voice. Keith has to admire that, even if it makes his heart hurt a little for Shiro losing his dream.  “I like what I do now.”

Keith pauses on the sand and it has Shiro halting beside him too. He gazes upwards and Shiro’s right, the stars are the brightest he thinks he’s ever seen them, even in flight. There’s not a single cloud to block their view, that spread of the shifting galaxies moving billions and trillions of lightyears away from them, probably with a hundred different worlds, living an unfathomable number of different lives.  There’s the vastness of space, the realisation they are two tiny specs in a huge cosmos, two tiny specs and somehow, he’s found himself here in this moment with Shiro.  It makes him shiver and Shiro steps closer. 

“Cold?” he murmurs.

It’s a warm night but Keith considers stretching the truth to keep Shiro close. He just wants to settle himself into Shiro’s orbit, like the moon circling the Earth.

He doesn’t realise how long he takes to answer until Shiro shifts, untangling their fingers and instead becoming a wall of heat at Keith’s back. His human hand finds Keith’s palm again and his metal hand comes to rest lightly on Keith’s hip. Keith can feel the question in Shiro’s touch. He moves slowly, gently, giving Keith plenty of time to either halt his movements or step away. Sometimes it’s easier this way than with saying the words out loud and with the way Keith’s heart starts to hammer in his chest, he’s not sure he would have been able to speak anyway.

“Okay?” Shiro’s voice is barely a whisper against his cheek.

“Yes,” Keith finally breathes out and he’s sure Shiro can hear the smile in his voice when he answers. “More than okay.”

The void he’d felt yawning between them earlier starts to close.

Keith loses track of how long they stand there, each of them seemingly reluctant to part long enough to continue walking along the shoreline then Shiro starts to name some of the constellations quietly and the lilt of his voice flows into Keith and settles somewhere in his chest. 

No matter what happens in the future, whether they make this marriage real or if it fails, Keith isn’t sure he will ever be able to look up at the stars and not think of Shiro. 

“And that one,” Shiro says again and Keith forces his eyes to follow the line of Shiro’s finger when he points towards the sky. The arrangement of stars above them doesn’t seem at all familiar to him but Shiro seems to know them.  “That’s Acrux, then Becrux, Gacrux and Delta Crucis. See the smaller one? That’s Epsilon Crucis and they make up the southern cross.”

“I don’t know that one,” Keith answers and he has to smile when Shiro launches into a quietly murmured explanation. He talks about the mythology of the stars, the way old sailors used them to navigate, about the way they move in the sky with the seasons and then as though embarrassed, Shiro stops and pulls away.

“Sorry, that’s the instructor in me coming out,” he laughs apologetically. “I get carried away sometimes.”

Keith tugs him back, unwilling to be separated for even a moment.

“No, I like it,” he replies and when Shiro hesitates, he gives him a little nudge.  “Keep going.”

Shiro flashes him a small smile that catches the moonlight and his eyes gleam. For a brief moment, Keith has the dizzying sensation that Shiro’s about to kiss him but then he’s left disappointed when Shiro pulls him back against his chest and turns his face back up to the heavens.

“The bigger one there is Centaurus, and that one over there is Musca.”

“Where?” Keith asks and Shiro leans closer. So close that Keith can feel the heat radiating off his skin, the light stubble on his jaw as he presses against Keith, cheek against cheek. It makes Keith’s blood heat and his heartbeat race and suddenly every nerve is on fire. Shiro’s voice is husky when he points out the constellation once again. 

“Right there, do you see it?”

It all starts to look the same to him, he’s too distracted by Shiro’s sheer presence to pay too much attention.  When it seems like Shiro is about to pull away from him to keep walking along the sand, Keith points to a random spot in the distance. 

“And what about that one?” he says, hoping to draw out the moment. He doesn’t actually care where he’s pointed and neither it seems does Shiro because Shiro recites off another name without even looking and suddenly Shiro’s brushing the hair away from Keith’s cheek and tilting his jaw upwards. 

This time, Keith really does think Shiro is going to kiss him and this time, he’s not disappointed. 

He meets Shiro halfway, a needy part inside of him making him cling to his husband tighter than strictly necessary. The fallout from Lotor’s box of questions still makes him feel unsettled and he desperately wants to banish the lingering unease and reassure himself that they’re still on the same page in the experiment.

It’s as much for himself as it is for Shiro. 

 

* * *

 

It takes a moment for Shiro to realise the dampness on his cheek is a sudden fat waterdrop and not something else. He could feel Keith trying to pull away from him both emotionally and physically as they started to walk after their meal and it frustrated him. But now, kissing Keith, feeling Keith pressing against him, he’s not sure if he’s angry at Lotor and his box of questions for stirring up something that shouldn’t even be an issue at this early point in time… or if he’s grateful that they’d at least communicated to some degree about it and Keith was still here. It gives him hope that they weren’t going to splinter at first sign of trouble and he kisses Keith a little harder in gratitude.

The wind changes and the air abruptly feels heavier. Shiro hadn’t even noticed the sudden cloud cover looming on the horizon, blacking out where the stars should be, he’d been too busy kissing Keith and trying to eke out a reassurance that he wasn’t going to wake up alone in this experiment tomorrow.

And then suddenly the rain drops are falling heavier and they stumble apart.

“Oh, man. Rain. We’d better get back.”

No sooner has Keith uttered the words, a strike of lighting ripples against the sky, lighting up their skin in silver. Thunder cracks a moment later and the wind whips up loose sand to pound it against their skin.

Shiro has to struggle to keep his voice calm. “Good idea, lets hurry.”

It doesn’t take long to jog back to the bungalow and they dash inside just before another crash of thunder hits. The bungalow is dark, lit only by the lamps on the bedside tables on either side of the bed and the mosquito net around the bed snaps wildly as the wind gusts in behind them. He’s immobilized as he watches as Keith races around the bungalow to shut the storm blinds and flip on an extra lamp, then he tosses Shiro a towel.  Shiro looks down at it in his hands, feeling like time has slowed. 

Part of him has gone back to the moments before the crash, the alarms blaring and the ship shaking as the storm pummelled them. It had been nothing but black outside the cockpit windows but he could see the water streaming over the glass.  Beside him, Matt clinging to the seat and screaming at him to eject-

He blinks when Keith touches the back of his hand gingerly and it takes him a few beats to come all the way back.  There’s something in Keith’s eyes he can’t quite read.

“Sorry,” he says weakly after a few swallows. “I’m tired.”

Keith looks like he wants to challenge that but Shiro tightens his jaw as something slams against the side of the bungalow and Shiro can almost physically see Keith back down.

“Okay,” he says with an easy shrug.  _Okay, I won’t push._   Shiro knows he’s going to have to think about sharing his whole sorry story with Keith at some point. Just… not tonight.

Keith turns to the bed and nudges back the sheets.  “Want to see if there’s Netflix here?” he tries to joke then they’re both pleasantly surprised to discover there is. 

He follows Keith’s lead and climbs into the bed.  The tablet they have access to isn’t big but it’s big enough to prop up on the sheets between them. Shiro tries to ignore the storm outside and focus on the movie but another crack of thunder rolls over head and he feels like he wants to vomit.

At home, he fought the flashbacks of his accident brought on by the storm with a pair of good headphones, great music or calling Matt and letting Matt talk him through it. Here he only had Keith and it feels wrong to burden Keith so soon with it.

Keith doesn’t make it through the first ten minutes of the movie before he passes out, his head lolling against Shiro’s shoulder. Keith doesn’t even twitch when another crack of thunder sounds. Evidently, Keith can sleep anywhere, and through anything.  A trait Shiro wished he had right now.

“Keith,” Shiro tries to nudge him gently.  He’s not going to wake up happy if he spends the night with his neck in that position so Shiro does his best to ignore the storm and slide Keith onto his side in the sheets.  He’s heavier than he looks and utterly limp in sleep and Shiro has to grunt a little to move him. 

He flicks the lights off and pushes the tablet away, rolling over to dump it on the floor of his side of the bed when a very warm mass is suddenly at his back and an arm is thrown over his hip.

“Keith?”

There’s only a soft snuffle in response but Shiro settles down into the mattress.  The storm doesn’t bother him anymore after that.

 

* * *

 

 

(Art by [Boo](http://boosify.tumblr.com/) courtesy of the lovely [Jay](http://nutella0mutt.tumblr.com/) \- thank you honey!!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. This was miserable to write. Luckily tomorrow is a new day for these love sick idiots and it should hopefully be a good one! (art at the end! omgg)


	16. baby, it's now or never

art by [dogskun](http://dogskun.tumblr.com/post/176499559610/commission-for-flashedarrow-based-on-their-fic)

* * *

 

They spend the second day of their honeymoon and the third day of their marriage venturing out of their isolated resort and into the bustling township that hugs the other side of the island. It was a world away from their own home city, these streets harking back to a simpler time but no less teeming with tourists and locals going about their day. The smell of the ocean mingles with the unfamiliar scents of street food from local vendors and the powerful smell of fuel from the mass of scooters and vehicles swarming the streets. It was noisy and vibrant and Keith couldn’t keep the excited grin from his face as they set off to explore with nothing but a tattered tourist map in their hands.    

They spend the morning utterly without a plan, keen to see what adventure they can find or that could find them.  Keith hadn’t admitted it to himself, but he wanted to see how spontaneity looked on a man like Shiro, a man he suspected was used to routine and structure. Waving a map at him at breakfast and kicking the guidebook under the table had been a test and much to Keith’s internal delight, Shiro had passed with flying colours.

“Sure, I’m keen to explore. We can just play it by ear and see where we end up,” Shiro had shrugged easily smearing a dollop of butter onto his toast as they made plans for the day ahead. Keith had to hide his grin behind his coffee mug and almost burnt himself in the process.  

So, they wander the laneways that branch off the main thoroughfare of the beach, exploring the markets stalls and trying to avoid the more overzealous hawkers. Keith tries his hand at bartering in the marketplace and it gets heated enough that Shiro has to step in to soothe the ruffled feathers on both sides before they are eventually able to leave with Keith triumphally clutching his purchases.

Behind the marketplace, they stumble across a small temple and Keith learns about a whole new side to his husband that makes him teeter even closer to that edge. So close, he’s not sure he’s not already falling when Shiro stands barefoot and reverent before the gilded statues of the local deities holding a fragrant stick of burning incense as he quietly asks for a blessing on their new marriage. It’s not until later, sitting together under the shade of a palm tree on the busy tourist beach with melting ice-creams running down their fingers that Shiro tells him about his grandfather, the temples he visited as a child, and how he’d not been back to any since his accident.

Keith doesn’t need Shiro to tell him how much that quiet confession cost him.

They go back into the beach, Shiro opting to keep his arm covered once again and the surf is stronger on this side of the island.  Keith spends far too much time ogling Shiro instead of keeping an eye out for the waves and he gets dunked often enough that Shiro laughs and pulls him close.  He loops his arms comfortably around Shiro’s neck as they float and Shiro watches the waves for the both of them.

It’s nearing sunset when Keith briefly loses track of Shiro, only to find him a few metres away in an out of the way corner befriending the local stray cats. Shiro glances up at him sheepishly from where he crouches, a newspaper with pieces of fish spread out on the ground in front of him and Keith almost panics because his heart suddenly feels to big for his chest and he can’t breathe because oh god, is this what falling in love feels like?

But it’s too soon, isn’t it? Three days in and he already can’t imagine a world without Shiro in his life.  Three days in and he already knows he would move mountains for this man.

Shiro gives the cats a final pat then stands up, coming back to Keith’s side where he’s frozen in place, trying desperately to find his voice. He’s shaken by the shifting planes of his heart until they grow and move and surround themselves around Shiro.

He’s fucked.  He’s so fucked and he couldn’t be happier.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” Shiro says but he doesn’t get to say much else before Keith is hauling him down far enough to kiss him.  It’s a hard kiss, just a press of dry lips before Keith releases him and steps back and Shiro blinks in bemusement at the sudden, mildly aggressive show of affection. “Uh, okay?”

“I’m really glad I signed up for this experiment,” Keith manages to say and Shiro’s eyes lock with his.  He’s sure he can see the answering sentiment in Shiro’s eyes, the intensity that crackles between them. Shiro’s hand comes to Keith’s cheek and his gaze softens.  Keith needs to swallow down his unsteadiness, still trying to adjust to the idea that suddenly his heart might now very well be walking around outside his body.

“So am I,” Shiro answers softly and by the way he looks at him, Keith can almost believe that something has shifted for Shiro too.

 

* * *

 

Somehow, they’ve ended up at a beachside bar at sunset with drinks in their hands and a plate of food between them.

Actually, the term _bar_ is generous, it’s really just a small shack on the beach, surrounded by rows of enormous bean bags on the sand and illuminated by a strings of paper lanterns glowing above them.  Tiki torches are scattered around the edges, their flames snapping in the cool evening breeze and there’s a band set up on the shoreline, playing acoustic versions of modern pop songs all as the sun sinks lower over the water.

Shiro is feeling relaxed and happy, and far more content than he ever expected to feel at this point of his untried marriage. Keith is easy company, and they’ve had an incredible day exploring the island and the township. Shiro can’t remember the last time he just let someone else take the lead and he didn’t regret a second.

If he was honest with himself, he was pleased with himself for offering up that trust and he sensed that he would be safe with Keith.

“This has been a good day,” Shiro says as he plucks a morsel off their shared plate.  “I can’t remember the last time I had such a good time.”

Keith flashes him a grin. He looks pretty comfortable sprawled over the beanbag but he has to shift closer to be able to talk over the music but Shiro doesn’t mind, relishing any excuse to get close. It’s a great atmosphere, the crowd of mostly tourists around them all laughing and drinking. He spies a few other couples curled tightly together, obviously enjoying the atmosphere in a different way.

“I’m just going to leave the haggling to you in future, though,” Keith says as he turns to his side to shuffle closer to Shiro on the beanbag. The plate of food almost goes flying but Shiro manages to snatch it up just in time. He waits until Keith settles in then sets it down again. 

“You’ll get the hang of it, it’s a bit of game for them I think.”

“I don’t get it. If that’s the price, then that’s the price. Just say that. Why do we have to go backwards and forwards a million times over it,” Keith grumbles but there’s no heat to his complaint. There’s definitely some heat to his cheeks though.

Shiro can’t quite place it, but since the kiss after he fed the street cats, Keith seems slightly jumpier around him. Which is weird, because Shiro already knows he likes cats (so that couldn’t be it) and their day together had been so easy and comfortable. It was like they’d known each other for years, not for days. He’s not sure what’s changed suddenly.

“Thanks for showing me the temple though,” Keith says after a moment and Shiro finds it a little odd he that Keith won’t meet his eyes.

“The temples make me think of my grandfather,” Shiro muses quietly. “It was actually kind of nice to into one again. I’d forgotten how peaceful they were.”

Maybe it had been a mistake to take so much time away from them, he thinks then. He’s sure his grandfather would have been disappointed to know his faith had become lacking. Seeing the monks, serene in their robes and experiencing the calm that washed over him as soon as he walked inside the temple gates was something he wouldn’t be able to put out of his mind any time soon.

And the fact that Keith had been right there with him, his eyes wide with curiosity and awe as he took in the colourful mosaics and golden statues made something in his chest stir a little. Keith had immediately understood the significance, Shiro hadn’t even needed to say a word to explain it and when he stood there to ask for that blessing, Keith had been a comforting presence at his back.

It had been a long time, but he was sure he felt something flutter over his skin when he closed his eyes and an image of his grandfather smiling appeared in his mind so strongly it almost felt like he was there in the room with him.

“When we get back, maybe we’ll have to find one visit more,” Keith says easily. He’s watching the ocean in the distance and Shiro is sure Keith has no idea how much that means to him.

“Yeah,” he murmurs.  “I’d like that.”

They finish their meal and order new drinks as a new set of songs are played by the band and the sun sets completely.  The night curls around them, broken only by the soft light from the paper lanterns above their heads. Shiro can see the first stars start to wink into existence and he’s reminded of the night before, their walk on the beach and then the storm.

Nervously, he glances off into the distance, checking for ominous clouds but there’s nothing.

Once the sun has gone down completely, the vibe changes. The band clears away and a DJ pumps out faster paced music with heavier beats, the crowd becomes thicker, bolder in the way they interact and start to dance on the sand. It’s not Shiro’s usual type of scene but Keith doesn’t seem uncomfortable so Shiro decides to just go with it.  He feels strangely invisible here, there’s no focus on his arm, every time he tries to brace himself for a comment or a stare from a stranger, he’s pleasantly surprised when nothing eventuates and he just becomes a part of the crowd. 

He’s not a dancer to this beat though, preferring to perch by the edges of the newly formed dance area on the sand with his drink in one hand and watch as Keith pulls himself up with a grin and heads over to enjoy the music. His husband has a few more drinks under his belt now and his cheeks are definitely pink against his paleness from the buzz and when he starts to dance, it’s a visual feast that Shiro can’t tear his eyes away from.

His husband – and Shiro finds that easier to say the more time goes on, the more his feelings grow-moves like quicksilver, his body undulating smoothly like a river finding the curves of the earth. It’s a direct contrast to his sharp angles and long lean lines and every now and then, his eyes flash to him as though he’s always watching, always making sure that he knows exactly where Shiro is at all times. Shiro is surprised at how much he likes that, knowing that Keith is watching for him. It hasn’t been long but the tether between them feels strong, strong enough that just the heat of his gaze is enough to make Keith look up and be reeled in until he’s at Shiro’s side once again.

Keith takes the drink Shiro is nursing and knocks back a swig before grasping Shiro’s hand and leading him onto the sand too.  Shiro isn’t sure about the music but it suddenly doesn’t matter when Keith positions himself in front of him, his back to Shiro’s chest and leans back to hook one palm around Shiro’s neck. Shiro has to hold his breath even as his hands land against Keith’s hips and then Keith gyrates against him and Shiro almost looses himself right there in that crowd. 

There’s a guilenessless to Keith that Shiro is rapidly starting to fall in love with. Under his dark mop of hair, his emotions show easily on his face and when he looks at Shiro, there’s no pretence or deceit, it’s just pure Keith.  Shiro had been with guys before that were all show, flirtiness and empty facades, acting for an invisible audience that sometimes maybe wonder if there was a hidden camera somewhere he didn’t know about but there’s none of that with Keith. Shiro’s not sure it would ever even occur to him, he’s just real so when he tilts his head back against Shiro’s shoulder, his eyes drift closed and his lips part, Shiro knows it’s because Keith is feeling good. Damn good, and Shiro knows he has something to do with that.

He’d be lying if it didn’t stroke his ego. Knowing his husband was as powerfully attracted to him as he was to Keith was a good groundwork to have for their relationship.  He’s thinking about it now when Keith slides against Shiro so beautifully he’s utterly helpless in the way his body reacts and he’s not even too embarrassed to hide it. When Keith feels Shiro’s erection against his back, he turns in Shiro’s arms and looks up at him with eyes dark and heavy lidded. The arm around Shiro’s neck slides over his shoulder and then Keith is surging upwards and kissing him hungrily. Shiro can taste the sweetness of the drink Keith had consumed on his tongue and when Keith pushes insistently against him, he parts his lips and Keith claims him.

God, but it makes his blood run hot.  There on the sand in the glow of the bar, under the beat of the music, there’s a hundred other bodies entwined, dancing, kissing, and petting nearby but he’s oblivious to them all. Keith has a way of making him forget everything, forget where they are, even his own name. His hands drift from their station on Keith’s hips, further south to land securely on Keith’s ass and he’s unable to resist kneading the muscle under his hands. Keith hums appreciatively against his lips, scraping his teeth along Shiro’s bottom lip before sucking it and Shiro can’t help the groan that spills out of his throat when Keith does it. His metal hand shifts from Keith’s backside to fist in the back of Keith’s hair and for a brief moment, Shiro worries it was too rough but Keith just presses closer, their mouths moving against each other, all parting lips and clashing teeth.

The heat in Shiro’s skin is burning him alive. He can feel Keith’s hardness against his thigh, a wild part of him wants to pick Keith up and carry him into the nearest bathroom and hold him against a wall to rut against him.

But this isn’t some kind of casual hook up, this is _his husband,_ and Keith deserves better.

It takes a lot of strength to pull away from Keith’s hungry kisses, almost more than Shiro has and he doesn’t consider himself weak by any stretch of the imagination. They finally break apart, foreheads touching as they fight to catch their breath. 

“God, you’re amazing,” Shiro breathes but he’s sure Keith doesn’t hear it over the music. Keith reluctantly pulls away and Shiro lets him go, but not without stealing a final brief kiss before he goes back to the bar, willing his body to relax, to calm down. Keith’s still dancing, but it’s become more of a sway until he abruptly pauses, blinks, and reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone. The expression on Keith’s face hardens and he grips the phone, punching the answer button and then striding quickly away into the darkness. 

Shiro watches him go, the buzz from the alcohol in his system and the heat of his blood making his reaction slow to catch up to his thoughts. He realises it’s not the first time that’s happened, in fact almost every time Keith looks at his phone, it makes him frown. Whatever he saw then was obviously important enough to take the call-

Shiro tries to make his thoughts line up. All day they’ve taken the usual touristy snaps on Shiro’s phone, they’d joked about having to set up a join account to share them.  He hadn’t even realised Keith had his phone with him all day. Keith had said he didn’t want to be bothered by any more random calls so… what could be so important that he pulled it out now?

Was there something else going on? Maybe it was an ex?

That thought heralds and avalanche of ice in his veins, and he’s suddenly too cold to even breathe.

He’d never thought to ask or even consider if there was an ex in the picture. Keith was an amazing guy, it would be naive to think he hadn’t had other relationships before. They hadn’t talked about their histories yet, he wasn’t sure if they ever would. Could that have been why Keith decided to take part in the experiment? To escape and ex? Maybe there was still something there, maybe that’s why the insistent phone calls-

Something inside his heart splinters at the thought that Keith may not be completely committed, but it also brought home how little they really knew about each other.

_Shit, shit, shit._

Earlier on the dancefloor, Shiro had honestly been thinking about throwing caution to the wind and taking Keith back to the bungalow to laying him down on the bed and _show_ him exactly how much his feelings were developing. But he can’t risk that now.

He rubs his face, too tired and too tipsy to try to make sense of the situation and when his hand falls away, Keith is making his way back through the crowd, the tight set of his jaw all the indication that Shiro needs to know that whatever or whoever he spoke too, it didn’t go well. 

When Keith wants to go back to the bungalow citing tiredness and too much to drink, Shiro doesn’t argue.

 


	17. you'll be mine

It’s early when they roll out of bed, woken by the cacophony of birds in the trees and the rumble of a lone boat engine in the distance. Keith’s skull feels a little fuzzy and judging by the way Shiro leans his head heavily on one hand, he’s feeling about the same.

Yesterday had been an amazing day that had rolled into an amazing evening. After a few drinks, they were both loose and relaxed and basking in the comfort that their relationship was progressing beautifully. Dancing on the sand in the darkness with that glow in his veins and Shiro’s wide hands hot and heavy on this ass, Keith was pretty sure that if he hadn’t taken that damn call from Ezor, their relationship might have progressed even further again.

Taking that call had been a mistake. It had bothered him for the rest of the night, forcing him to draw into himself and hold his anger and frustrations deep inside. He’d been quiet through the ride back to the bungalow and as they’d prepared for bed and slid into the sheets, he’d been too lost in his own head to realise that Shiro had been quiet himself.  That realisation hadn’t come until much later.   

He lay there for hours in the dark, watching the stars outside the window as his mind went over the conversation with his half-sister. He went from being irritated, to furious to worried and back again in a nervous cycle. He had a vague sense that Shiro might not be asleep either.  His husband had been too still, his breathing too shallow to reflect a deep slumber.

But Ezor… fuck.  Whatever shit she’d managed to land herself in, she was determined to drag Keith in with her.

“Ezor, I’m on my honeymoon,” he’d snapped when he answered the call, marching over the uneven sand to get somewhere quieter away from the dancing where he would be able to hear her over the music. His thighs had burned with the effort and he felt lightheaded from the drinks but he found a spot near a patch of palm trees and their palms rustled in the night above. Ezor trilled her laughter down the phone and it only served to make him even more annoyed.

“What, your fake honeymoon to go with your fake wedding?” she’d mocked and Keith wanted to crush the phone in his hands to dust at her comment. Through the haze of red, he tried to remind himself that it didn’t matter what she thought, as long as he and Shiro treated their marriage as real, that was all that mattered. 

“What the fuck do you want, Ezor? Really? What’s so important that you won’t stop calling me?”

There had been a beat of silence so long on the other end of the line Keith had pulled his phone away from his ear to check the screen to make sure they were still connected. They were. When Ezor spoke again, there had been something else in her voice that Keith couldn’t quite read.

“You just need to pilot. That’s it. We can have the flight plans lodged and the plane ready-“

“No.”

“You don’t need to do anything except for fly, it will be eas-“

“Are you fucking serious? I’m not risking my license for you and whatever shady shit you’ve gotten yourself caught up in.”

“But, baby brother-“

“Fuck off, Ezor. The answer is no, don’t ask me again. Don’t even _call_ me again.”

Yeah. It hadn’t been the best way to finish off what had actually been a really great day and he was still furious about it. But, he wasn’t going to let Ezor get to him, he wasn’t going to even let himself think about her, not when he had Shiro to focus on.

Shiro, who still looked half asleep enough to make Keith want to smirk.

“Need some coffee?” he asks and Shiro looks up at him with a tired little grimace. 

“I think I need six,” he answers dryly.  “I think my body clock is still on garrison time.”

“Mine too,” Keith replies.  “I though honeymoons were supposed to be staying in bed until noon and-“

It takes a few seconds before his brain catches up with his words and an image flashes before his eyes of bare skin and messed up sheets in the glow of the morning sun.  His face suddenly feels very hot. Shiro has the grace to turn his face away but Keith’s sure he can see his lips twitching.  “Uh,” he tries to say but his brain won’t work.

“We might get there yet,” Shiro teases him softly, turning back to him with eyes heated enough to make Keith’s mouth go dry.  There’s a promise there and it makes Keith hungry for it. It takes everything he has not to launch himself at Shiro right then and pin him to the sheets, going slow be damned. They’re married, their feelings are developing faster than he could ever think possible and the spark between them is enough to burn him alive. 

For someone who’s impulse control has never been one of his strengths, Keith’s a little bit surprised at himself for lasting even this long.

But it’s more than just the attraction sizzling with Shiro. More than just the way their bodies fit together and the way his mouth feels. There’s more, so much more and Keith is loathe to fuck it up.

Their breakfast arrives a short time later and so does another box from Lotor, once again held reverently in the hands of one of the resort staff. Keith takes it with a grimace and carries it over to the daybed on their bungalow’s deck and sits on the edge to open it. Shiro joins him, coffee in hand.

“Does it feel weird to you? All those strangers just hanging by a thread, hooked on whether or not we can make a go of this?” Keith muses.  It still feels odd to remember the selection process, the rounds of intensive interviews, the testing and the soul baring that had left him so raw he wanted to be sick– it had been one of the toughest things he’d had to go through and that was saying a lot. Sitting beside Shiro now though… it was worth it.

The box is open but he hasn’t pulled the card out yet. Beside him, Shiro leans over to take it out.

“It does feel a bit strange,” Shiro comments and he smiles shyly over the rim of his cup. “But it seems like they’ve got it right so far.”

Shiro’s words release a bloom of warmth in Keith’s chest and he has to fight the grin threatening to take over his face. “Maybe they’re all in a room somewhere sitting around congratulating themselves?”

“That’s… that’s actually kind of a disturbing thought,” Shiro laughs but then he turns his attention to the card detailing their instructions and reads it out loud. Keith is relieved that despite the vague awkwardness and distance between them returning to the villa last night, today they seem to be back to their easy comradery and even _flirting._  

As far as the experiment goes, for once Lotor seems to have nailed it - a joy flight around the island on a seaplane with a stop on one of the smaller islands to snorkel in a private lagoon. 

It sounds amazing and Keith is too excited to notice Shiro’s gone still.

 

* * *

 

The pilot of the seaplane is waiting for them at the end of a jetty that stretches out over the caerulean water and Shiro greets her with a brisk shake of the hand.  She’s small and compact with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. She looks competent enough, then he feels immediately uncharitable for judging.

It’s his nerves. They’re messing with his head.

“Captain Olia, at your service,” she grins and it’s infectious. Shiro can’t help but smile back and a small part of his tension eases.

She grins a little wider when she notices him assessing the plane bobbing gently on the water.  There’s not much to it, two wide pontoons to float on, a small fuselage painted bright yellow and cobalt blue that could surely only hold a handful of passengers and a propeller that sits on the plane’s nose.

Keith bounds past him, his eyes focused firmly on the small plane. “Hey, is that a Rebel 56?”

Olia nods and they end up chatting about the plane briefly. Shiro listens with only half an ear, until Keith mentions one of his first flights was in a similar model aircraft and of course, anything to do with Keith’s background has Shiro sitting up and taking note.

“Okay then,” Olia says as the conversation wraps up.  She playfully taps Keith in the centre of his chest. He looks surprised but not offended.  “Now, no backseat flying.”

Keith laughs at that and follows her eagerly to the plane with Shiro trailing close behind him. 

The plane’s cabin is as small and as compact as its pilot, only four passenger seats and two pilot seats and barely enough room for Shiro to stow his long legs.  It has windows wider and larger than you’d find on an average lightplane and it’s clear one is designed for touring and once they’re settled into their seats, Olia hands them a pair of headphones with mics attached.  As she goes over the pre-flight checks, Keith flashes him a smile that is impossible not to respond to.

“Not one of your fancy jets, but this will still be fun,” he grins. With his hair tucked under the headphones and his eyes shining, he looks like a much younger version of himself. Even feeling as uneasy as Shiro does, Keith’s excitement is catching.

“Those fancy jets are overrated, no flying for the joy of it in those,” he confesses and Keith’s eyebrows shoot up as though he can’t believe what Shiro’s just said. He considers it for a moment then shrugs.

“I suppose not,” he says and then the engines kick in and the plane starts to move.

It’s a strange sensation to be taking off from the water, something about it makes Shiro’s mind stutter so he tunes his focus onto Keith. He might have gripped Keith’s hand a little too hard at one point when he’d offered it because Keith captures his jaw and guides his lips to his just as the plane lifts and the ocean falls away behind them.

The plane banks slightly and they’re mesmerized by the view outside the windows, incredible stretches of turquoise deepening to the deepest blue the further they go from the islands.  At one point, Keith issues out a challenge to Olia and she flicks a smirk over her shoulder before the small plane abruptly banks and dips deeply enough to make Shiro’s stomach drop. Keith hoots and laughs but Shiro is surprisingly too busy thinking about how relaxed Keith is to be bothered by Olia’s flying.   

Last night, after Keith disappeared so abruptly into the darkness with his phone, Shiro had been trying to pull his walls back up, but in the light of day and under the intense wattage of Keith’s smile, Shiro couldn’t remember what he’d been so concerned about. It had taken him so long to get to sleep once they got back to the bungalow, the whole incident with Keith and the phone call at the forefront of his mind. He’d promised himself he would finally confront Keith about it, about the possibility of there being an ex in the picture, but then morning had come and he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

The truth was… he wasn’t sure if he would like the answer. If Keith wasn’t committed then, well, it would make for an awkward few days until their return home.

Not mention, break his heart.

He’s so focused on Keith that he hardly notices his anxiety and it’s almost an hour later when they’re descending and they spend the next few hours snorkelling in the crystal-clear waters over the reef. 

By midday, they’re perched on one of the plane’s pontoons shaded by the fuselage, their feet dangling in the water as brightly coloured fish dart by under their toes. They have a picnic basket between them and drinks in their hands. Keith’s skin is pink from the sun.

By all rights, Shiro should be starving after the long morning in the water but he can’t seem to bring himself to eat. It surprises him that Keith notices.

“Not hungry?” Keith asks him with a frown. He’s already devoured his share and is rummaging around in the picnic basket for more. Shiro looks down at the half-eaten meal in his hand and shrugs.

“Not at the moment. Maybe I just got too much sun, I have a bit of a headache,” he offers. He puts the food down and looks up to find Keith eyeing him closely.

“Do you have a headache? Dizziness? Any nausea?”

“No,” Shiro chuckles, knowing where Keith is going with his questions. Keith’s brows have snapped together intensely and Shiro gets a glimmer of what he might be like when he’s working. “Nothing dramatic like sunstroke, settle down,” he teases gently.

“Sorry,” Keith relaxes then, a faint flush on his cheeks.  “It’s hard to switch off sometimes.”

“You’re looking out for me,” Shiro says softly. Keith shrugs, like it’s no big deal and he’s already dismissed it. 

“You’d do the same for me.” 

That makes Shiro tilt his head, laying a calculating gaze on Keith. There wasn’t a single beat of hesitation and that surprised him. Not that Keith was wrong but… There was still a lot to learn about each other. It would be easy to get hurt by misjudgements of character.

“How can you be so sure?” he asks curiously. Keith levels a stare at him, his brows furrowed as though he’s not sure why Shiro is asking a question when the answer is so obvious. 

“I just am.”

Something about the way Keith says it with such confidence makes Shiro’s heart twist in his chest. It feels heavy and light at the same time and it almost makes him dizzy with the force of it. There’s something inexplicable in the sureness Keith has that touches on some of Shiro’s deepest insecurities and yet another thing he’d been searching for in the experiment suddenly becomes found.

Shiro pushes the basket away then, keen to get rid of anything between them and he drags his fingers up the material of Keith’s boardshorts, curling them against the waist band. He gives them a light tug to show his intent and Keith responds by sliding himself closer until they are pressed together. Shiro leans his head against Keith’s, their foreheads touching.  There’s a lot he wants to say but the dull ache in the back of his head makes it hard to form the words but he gets the sense he doesn’t need to.

 

* * *

 

By the time they get back to the bungalow later that afternoon, Keith feels absolutely wiped and he’s eying the hammock and contemplating a nap.

Shiro opts to stay in the bungalow, and Keith would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t disappointed.  Shiro looks a little wan though and a rest on a comfortable bed seemed like something he needs.  It’s obvious to Keith that Shiro isn’t firing on all cylinders but it’s been a mammoth few days he’s bound to feel a bit run down. A little bit of time separated from each other also might not be a bad thing. It would give them each a chance to regroup and process the emotional rollercoaster the last few days have been.

It surprises Keith how well he’s adjusted to being in another person’s presence for so long, so intensely when normally he was craving to be alone after only a few hours in the company of others. It’s been days and he’s still gravitating to Shiro’s side every chance he gets.

He ends up falling asleep in the hammock himself, waking a short time later when the sun is already weak on the horizon and he’s thirsty enough to want to drink a pool. Inside the bungalow, Shiro’s on his side on the bed, just a dark shape in the shadows of the room and Keith slips past him silently to the bathroom to splash water on his face to wake himself up properly.

When he comes out, Shiro’s still asleep and with a glance outside at the deepening twilight, he decides it might be best to wake him so they can grab dinner and hopefully not mess up their body clocks even more. He turns on one of the bedside lamps, murmuring apologetically to Shiro at the light but the sight of Shiro makes him frown.

Outside, the sky deepens to the darkest hues of blue, pulling down the cover of night but inside the bungalow, Shiro looks unusually pale in the glow of the lamp and something niggles at the back of Keith’s mind when he realises Shiro face isn’t relaxed in sleep like he should be. His eyes are closed but his brows are drawn tight together and there’s sweat beading at his temple. 

“Shiro?”

He barely stirs but something that sounds horribly like a low groan slips out of his parted lips and Keith inhales sharply. He places a hand on Shiro’s forehead but he doesn’t need to touch him to know he’s burning up. 

“Shiro, can you hear me? Open your eyes.”

Keith’s tone is sharp and professional, it’s the voice he uses on the job and he tries to hold onto it now even as a sense of panic he’s unfamiliar with tries to claw it’s way through his skin.  “Shiro, can you squeeze my hand?”

There’s a slight pressure on his hand and Shiro’s eyelids flicker.  “Come on, Shiro,” he’s murmuring and it almost sounds like he’s begging and suddenly he’s furious at himself for leaving Shiro alone for so long when he knew - _he knew_ \- something was up. A pit in his stomach opens up at the time Shiro’s eyes open and he almost chokes on the shudder that rolls through him.

“K-Keith?”

“I’m here. You’re burning up. Shit, why didn’t you say something?”

Shiro grunts and looks away, almost like he can’t bear to look at him.

“Didn’t want you to worry. It happens sometimes.”

Keith frowns and probes further.  He can’t help but smooth the sweaty dampened strands of white hair back from Shiro’s forehead with a shaky hand. “You get fevers like this often?”

“It’s the arm,” he mumbles and suddenly Keith’s gaze swings to it. He moves his hand from Shiro’s head to the tech and recoils with a low hiss at the heat radiating off it. 

“Wait, does this happen a lot?” he demands.

His worry makes his voice sharper than it should be and the pit in his stomach grows wider even as his heart starts thundering. He can’t seem to make his thoughts come together, he’s struggling to reconcile the mental image of Shiro kissing him on the plane only hours ago to this image before him. Shiro looks so pale and his lips are chapped and dry, and somewhere in the back of his mind a voice yells at him to get water.

There’s a roar across his senses before he snaps back into the present.

 _Get it together, Kogane_ , he berates himself angrily. If this was a job, he would be methodically going through the steps beat into him from his training.  He would be calm and cool and detached, not standing here beside Shiro feeling like the world is spinning away from him and he can’t hold on.

_Remember your training!_

And he blinks, and he tries… But this is Shiro - _his husband -_  in obvious pain and distress and it’s too hard for him to compartmentalize.

“No,” Shiro groans it out and it sounds painful. He shifts, as though trying to escape the heated tech of his arm but there’s nowhere he can go and if Keith wasn’t alarmed before, he was about to loose his shit. “Sometimes. The water,” Shiro mumbles but Keith can’t properly understand what he says.

This… This is so far out of his realm of expertise he’s momentarily paralysed. In an emergency, Keith can tirage a broken arm, even a severed arm, but this kind of tech was well beyond his scope of proficiency. He briefly considers calling the ambulance to transfer Shiro into the care of the local hospital but what good would that do? It was a tiny hospital on a small tourist island somewhere in the middle of the pacific. They were more suited to tourists drinking themselves into oblivion or getting stomach flus, not dealing with cutting edge tech like this.

Shiro’s breath hitches and Keith becomes even more concerned as the fog of his roiling emotions start to clear. God, this tech is fused to Shiro, is cardiac arrest something he needs to be concerned about? How did that tech even work? He takes Shiro’s still human wrist and presses the pads of two of his fingers to it. Shiro’s pulse is fast but not alarmingly so and he shifts his fingers to take Shiro’s hand and squeezes, bringing it to his chest as he wipes a bead of sweat away from Shiro’s forehead with his other.

Hunk.  He needs to call Hunk.

Trouble is, he doesn’t have Hunk’s number. If they had been a long-time couple, their friends contact details probably would have ended up shared between them, but since they aren’t, the only thing he has to go on is Shiro’s phone.

He casts his eyes around the room urgently, relieved to find it lying dormant on the bedside table and he wonders briefly if Shiro has a lock on it and how he’s going to access it, or even if he _should_ access it. Keith hopes that Shiro doesn’t have a frustrating habit of naming his contacts as peculiar names. He’s been friends with Lance since they were old enough to drink and Keith is listed as _Mullet_ in Lance’s contact list.

The phone is locked and by now, Shiro is drifting off. On the scene of an accident, Keith wouldn’t think twice about picking up his patient’s hand to fingerprint unlock it in order to access it and pull out emergency contacts but this situation with Shiro was different.  Shiro’s phone probably had everything Keith could ever want to know about him in it and it felt like a huge invasion of privacy to unlock it without Shiro’s say so but when a shudder runs over Shiro’s body, Keith’s resolve is set. 

He forces the phone to unlock and quickly scrolls through the contacts, trying to keep his mind blank at what he sees, the rows of names he’s unfamiliar with, reminding him again of how new his relationship with Shiro was. They had barely scratched the surface of their lives together. There was very little shared history here.

So, it really shouldn’t have made his stomach drop the way it does when he flicks past the familiar logo of a dating app.  _Why does a married man need that, unless he’s thinking of better options?_

Keith shoves the thought out of his mind.  Not important now.  Right now, he needs to talk to Hunk.

Thankfully, Hunk turns out to be one of the numbers in Shiro’s recent calls list and Keith hits the call button with more force than was strictly necessary. The phone rings a few times before finally, blessedly, Hunk picks up.

“Hey man, aren’t you supposed to be enjoying your honeymoon or something right now-”

Keith jumps in and cuts him off.  “Hunk, it’s Keith, uh… Shiro’s, uh, husband. I need your help.”

“I know who you are. What’s wrong? Is Shiro okay?”

“Not really, he’s burning up and so is his arm. How do I fix it?”

Hunk swears low and there’s a scuffle on the other side, Hunk updating Katie, Keith assumes and then suddenly he’s been put on speaker.

“Keith? Keith, you need to listen to me very carefully and do exactly as I say. Can you do that?”

“Yes, damnit, just tell me how to help him!”

Hunk begins to explain the intricacies of the tech, musing between instructions that it must have been the salt water from the ocean possibly leaking in somewhere and Keith dimly registers that Shiro may have a kind of infection and his body is trying to fight it, taking the tech of his arm down with it.

Hunk instructs him to pull out the miniature tool kit from Shiro’s suitcase and he feels vaguely sick when he unlatches it and lays it on the bed.  He doesn’t recognize any of the delicate instruments and the small blue screen attached to the kit seems to mock him

It takes almost an hour and it’s unlike anything he’s ever had to do before but he follows Hunk’s instructions carefully. Hunk and Katie watch him like hawks from their side of the video feed and when Shiro’s frown lines ease and his breathing settles into something more comfortable, Keith has to shakily push away the tools to sit on the edge of the bed with Shiro’s metal arm in his lap. He closes his eyes and wills himself to catch his breath and still the rapid tattoo of his heart.  

“You did it, Keith. It will take some time to stabilize, but he’ll be okay now. Might be a good idea to keep him out of the ocean though,” Hunk says and Keith can see the guilt in his eyes.  “I’m sorry, man. I should have thought of this-“

“Hunk, it’s not your fault. I’m just glad I was able to reach you.” 

Neither of them wants to talk about what might have happened if he didn’t.

“Uh, well, just let him rest for a bit now,” Hunk says and then Katie’s face is filling the screen. 

“Check in with us in the morning,” she instructs and then the call goes dead and he’s left alone with Shiro in the bungalow once again.

Keith lowers Shiro’s arm gently to the bed and goes to the bathroom to dig up his small travel first aid kit. It’s not much, just a few things to help an upset stomach, some pain relief and a simple broad-spectrum antibiotic that he hopes will stave off the infection long enough to get something stronger.

He gently coaxes Shiro awake long enough to swallow the pain relief tablets with some water. It’s a struggle, Shiro is exhausted and can barely register what’s happening and Keith has to get up on the bed behind him and hold Shiro’s back against his chest.  He tilts Shiro’s head back against Keith’s shoulder and water dribbles out of his mouth and he coughs a few times. It’s frustrating, Keith’s first choice would have been an injection straight into Shiro’s blood stream and an IV but he doesn’t have that option here and he’s not sure that any of it would help anyway. Hunk seemed to think it was all a reaction from the tech of his arm malfunctioning.

By the time Shiro sags back heavily against Keith’s chest, Keith couldn’t be bothered to move him.  He doesn’t really want to. He takes comfort from Shiro’s heavy form against him, pushing him back against the headboard of the bed and for a few moments, he just sits there and holds Shiro in his arms. He feels shaky himself, the adrenaline high from the panic that had initially clawed at him still trying to leak out of his system.  A small part of him is surprised at the visceral reaction he had and it almost makes his stomach sink to realise how deeply Shiro has already settled into the empty spaces of his heart.

Then he sees Shiro’s phone, black and glossy against the white sheets and Keith is reminded of the dating app logo burned behind his eyelids.  It wasn’t his business, he shouldn’t have seen it but… it feels oddly like a betrayal. 

They’re _married_ now.  Dating apps were never things Keith had much interest in but he’d tried them once or twice just to stop Lance’s badgering. They could be good for the ego, something about his sharp angles and dark hair at attracted more attention than he expected… but he took himself off all of them the moment he found out he’d been chosen and he was going to get married in the good faith that this would be it for him.  It never occurred to him that his match wouldn’t do the same.

If Shiro still had the app on his phone, did that mean he still had one foot out the door? It made Keith feel sick to his stomach at the thought and he’s suddenly feels very scared and very vulnerable and very raw.  He knows he should ease away, to let Shiro rest but he’s reluctant to let him go and he turns his face to brush his nose against the soft buzz of Shiro’s undercut.  He still smells like salt from the ocean and the scent of his skin has already become so familiar to Keith it’s like he’s always known it.  Shiro’s heart beat thumps steadily against Keith’s palm and Keith struggles to get a hold of his emotions.

The level of protectiveness he feels towards Shiro overwhelms him and oddly, tears start to prick behind his eyes. It almost floors him with the force of it, but it shouldn’t, he realises a few moments later. He trails his fingers over the back of Shiro’s hand until he finds the gaps between his fingers and he fills those empty spaces with his own. With their fingers twined together like this, their twin wedding bands knock gently against each other. 

They had made their promises, said their vows…. They belong to each other now and what comes with that is something that Kolivan has drummed into him since he was a child. 

Shiro is his, and you fight for what is yours.


	18. yeah, let's go for it this time

Keith doesn’t let himself sleep, glad that he at least managed to get in a nap that afternoon to recharge long enough to see him through most of the night.  He’s too antsy to lie down beside Shiro, sure that his tossing and turning will wake him and Shiro needs the rest.  He wants to keep an eye on him anyway, he’s still not sure exactly what happened and he’s not sure that Shiro won’t suffer some kind of relapse.

He leaves one of the corner lamps on, bright enough to illuminate the room so he can see Shiro but not too bright as to disturb sleep and he huddles near it with a deck of cards he found on a nearby bookshelf, trying to beat himself at a game of solitaire. He’s used to having to sit vigil but on the past times he’s had to stay close to a patient, Lance was usually hovering nearby nattering away busily enough to stop him from falling into his own thoughts too deeply.

He kind of wishes Lance was here now.

He’s shuffling the cards again when there’s a gust of cool air through the windows.  It rustles the mosquito netting around the bed, hiding Shiro from view.  A moment later, the rain starts and he hops up to close up the shutters only to see movement from the bed and he freezes.

Shiro is stirring but Keith can’t tell if he’s coming awake or just resettling.  He’s been asleep for hours now and as far as Keith knows, he hasn’t eaten since their picnic on the seaplane’s pontoon and that feels like an awfully long time ago.

Shiro’s breathing changes, a deeper exhale that sounds a little shaky and Keith moves slowly over to the bed. It’s a little disconcerting that even after this short time together, he already knows the pattern of Shiro’s breaths. 

“Shiro?”

He says it softly, just in case he was wrong and Shiro’s still on the verge of sleep but then Shiro is pulling himself up with a mild groan. His prosthetic arm is still lying across the bed to one side, as though it’s just too heavy for him to move and he ends up in a half slouch blinking at Keith.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m… I’m not sure. What happened?”

His voice is dry and rusty from sleep and he still looks tired enough that Keith’s heart does a weird little blip in his chest. He pushes the netting to one side and takes a seat at the edge of the bed.  The port Hunk had instructed him to access on Shiro’s arm is still open, exposing some of the raw elements and tech inside. It was strange to look at, the way the cables and structure of it mimicked the appearance of bone and tendons. Having to get in there with the delicate instruments had reminded him why he could never be a surgeon and he had a whole new appreciation for the work Hunk and Katie did.

“Your tech went a little haywire and it made you sick, but it should be okay now.”

Shiro looks down and grimaces slightly at the open port. He reaches around with his other hand to flip it shut and sits up further until he’s straight backed against the headboard. He flexes his fingers and they seem to move the same as smoothly as usual, but Shiro’s still frowning.

“I… I had to call Hunk,” Keith explains.  “With your phone,” Keith adds after a moment and he catches himself watching Shiro closely at the revelation. He was half waiting for a flicker of alarm on Shiro’s face, of maybe panic that Keith may have seen something on Shiro’s phone he wasn’t supposed to see, or just plain anger or annoyance that Keith invaded his privacy like that. 

He’d expected anything but what he got.

“That was good thinking,” Shiro half smiles but it’s distracted and unconcerned. He doesn’t even seem bothered about how Keith even unlocked his phone and that makes Keith pause.  Shiro is rubbing his arm now and trying to rotate his shoulder. He winces and sighs and drops his hands into his lap then he notices the small tool kit on the bedside table. He stares at it for a moment, lips downturned.

“Hunk and Katie talked me through what to do to reset it. Something about the salt water I think Hunk said? I dunno, it was too technical for me to really understand.  They want you to check in with them though.”

“Okay,” Shiro nods. “I’ll give them a call later.”

For a brief moment, it’s on the tip of Keith’s tongue to say something about the dating app, but that lasts all of a few seconds before he realises it’s not the time or place and right now he doesn’t really want to know the answer. It might be stupid and break his heart but... He’s going to trust Shiro for now. He’s going to trust that perhaps the app was a relic from his dating days from before the experiment. Shiro certainly doesn’t look like he has anything to hide.

“Can I get you anything? I can get the resort to bring us room service if you’re hungry?”

“No,” Shiro shakes his head. “I’m okay. Thanks.”

Keith isn’t really sure how to proceed from here. He feels a little bit like their boundaries have shifted but he’s not sure exactly how.  Shiro is still tired, possibly a little weak from fighting the fever that came with the tech malfunction in his arm but it feels like there’s something else there too that’s bothering him. Or maybe he’s just imagining things? He’s not sure but he suddenly feels awkward.

“Okay, um. Well, if you need anything, let me know okay.”

He’s about to get up when Shiro captures Keith’s wrist to keep him nearby.  There’s a few heartbeats of silence before Shiro speaks.

“Sorry to put that on you,” he says quietly.  “That wasn’t fair, but I’m grateful.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Keith replies, and he’s genuinely surprised that Shiro would think assisting him with his tech would be any kind of hardship or that he would need to apologize.

“I’m sure sitting up half the night watching over a patient isn’t exactly high on your list of things to do on your honeymoon.”

It’s not his imagination when Shiro sounds a little bitter.  That makes Keith frown.

“You’re not a patient,” Keith responds quietly. He doesn’t like the way Shiro’s thoughts are headed and it makes him feel a little insulted for reasons he can’t quite articulate. “You’re my husband.”

His tongue almost stumbles over the word but it feels right. He expects Shiro to smile but there’s a tension in his shoulders that Keith didn’t see before. When Shiro speaks again, he sounds annoyed and frustrated and it sets Keith’s teeth on edge.

“This arm is a prototype, there’s been issues with it before.”

“Well, next time we have a holiday we’ll go somewhere cold where there’s no salt water,” Keith tries to joke to coax a smile Shiro but it doesn’t work. If anything, Shiro looks haunted, as though he’s on the verge of shattering and Keith doesn’t understand why.

“I’m broken, Keith. You sure you want to take this on?”

“You’re not broken.”

“Look, I just mean that there are other things to consider here and I need you to know what you’re getting yourself in for. This will probably keep happening. How many times are you going to have to fix me like that?”

“I’ll do it as many times as it takes,” Keith retorts angrily.

He’s not sure what he’s more upset about, the fact that Shiro thinks he’s some kind of burden, or that he thinks Keith is only willing to care for him out of some misguided sense of duty. 

Shiro hasn’t moved, his jaw tight and shoulders curled in on himself.  Shiro doesn’t respond and Keith can tell he’s surprised him with his flare of temper. 

_Well, too fucking bad._

Keith sucks in a breath and holds up his hand, waggling the finger that has his wedding ring on it. He’s pissed but he tries to stay calm.

“I made a promise,” he says, quieter this time but with no less fire. “It means something to me. Better or worse, sickness and in health, right?”

“You didn’t sign up for this though.”

“I signed up for you, Shiro. _You._ I don’t give a shit about anything else.”

Shiro looks away from him then and for a brief moment Keith wonders if he’s gone too far or said too much. He feels bad for snapping but he’s never been good at dealing with his frustrations and he can’t stand Shiro doubting himself like this.

Or worse, doubting Keith.  Somehow, that fucking hurts the most.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro turns to him. He still looks tired, with dark smudges under his eyes and Keith feels immediately contrite. Shit, this wasn’t the time for his hissy fits. He really needed to learn more self-control.  He clears his throat and straightens.

“Look, it’s late, you still need more rest. We can talk more in the morning-“

“Where are you going?”

Shiro tugs on his hand when Keith tries to stand and then refuses to let go. When Keith meets his eyes, he expects to see something that looks like reproach or disappointment but Shiro just nods his head tiredly at the empty space on the bed beside him. “You need rest too.”

“Yeah,” Keith breathes after a moment and just like that, the tension leaks away. He does feel drained and he’s pretty sure something monumental has happened in their relationship tonight but he’s suddenly too tired to analyse it. Shiro’s grip on his hand loosens and he shuffles over to allow enough space for Keith. He pauses long enough to flick off the lamp and then when the darkness washes over them, he slides onto the sheets and curls himself against his husband. The seconds tick over into minutes but sleep doesn’t come and then Shiro murmurs in the darkness.

“I could have ejected,” he says and Keith goes so still he almost forgets to breathe.  “I could have pulled that lever and ejected but that wasn’t an option for Matt or his father. They weren’t even supposed to be on that test flight. It was a last minute thing, they needed readings, the garrison wanted to see how the new plane tested. A couple of jump seats were hastily installed and when we went up, there was nothing but blue skies.”

Keith shifts, pressing himself a little closer to Shiro in some kind of silent support. He can hear the hoarseness in Shiro’s voice, he can feel the way his heart has started to race in his chest as he relives the moments his life changed.  Keith remembers the speech Matt made at their wedding, the way he’d looked at Shiro and choked up. It becomes clear to him that Shiro saved his life, and that of his father’s too.

“What went wrong?” he prompts quietly after a few long beats of silence.  He slides his fingers through Shiro’s in soundless support.

“Storm came out of nowhere,” he answers. Keith can feel him shaking his head.  “Of all the fancy, cutting edge technology the Garrison has, they couldn’t read the severity it. It was the worst one we saw in recent history.”

There’s a rueful kind of ugly humour to the way Shiro says it. Keith remembers that storm, he’d only been a rookie himself at the time. It had caused a lot of damage and caught so many people by surprise, flooding highways and stranding people in their homes. He’d lost track of the number of rescues they’d done and it’d been his first real taste of his job.  He didn’t realise Shiro had been caught in it.

“If I’d ejected out into the storm, I probably would have been dead anyway. I would have been a prime target for lightning strikes, not to mention the winds and trying to get a chute open. And it would have meant Matt and his father had no hope. One of the engines failed, too much water and friction on the wings, so… I tried to glide it in, to give us all a chance but there was fire and the plane tearing apart…. I… I don’t remember much after that, it’s just bits and pieces. I woke up, my arm was gone but Matt and Commander Holt were alive and… that was enough.”

Keith closes his eyes, trying to imagine what Shiro had gone through and it hurts something in his chest so much to think of it he can’t even speak.

“Thank you,” Keith says into the dark, his own voice choked. He has so many questions but for now, this is enough. He can feel the effort it cost Shiro to share this with him and he turns over and slides his leg between Shiro’s to bury his face against the crook of Shiro’s neck. “Thank you for telling me.”

Shiro’s arm curls around him and tightens and Shiro finally accepts the comfort Keith offers him. There’s a few beats of quiet then Shiro releases a shaky breath.

“I’m glad that’s out now,” he whispers. It surprises Keith that his voice sounds stronger now, as though by sharing that part of his history with Keith, he’s become lighter. Or maybe that was just another wall between them dissolving into dust. Keith has to swallow back a lump in his throat at the closeness he suddenly feels.

It’s slow and elusive, but the atmosphere in the room changes. Shiro’s still tired, they both are, but the tension from earlier is gone.  The next time Shiro speaks, it’s completely at odds with the intensity of his words earlier and it takes Keith’s brain a few moments to catch up. 

“So, before. Was… was that our first fight?”

Keith pokes him with a growl.

 

* * *

 

The rain hangs around the next day, which turns out to not be such a bad thing because it forces them to stay inside the bungalow and not feel like they’re missing too much on the rest of the island.  Shiro’s already feeling guilty for ruining Keith’s night, he doesn’t want to be the reason they miss out on more.

They order food from the main resort and Keith pulls up something for them to watch. Once again, ends up falling asleep ten minutes in to a movie about giant robots and Shiro doesn’t have the heart to wake him, the fact that he’s fallen asleep tucked against Shiro makes him irrationally pleased and he enjoys the rest of the movie with Keith drooling lightly into his shirt.

And he basks in it so much because god, this was all he ever wanted. Someone to just be with, someone to hold. Someone he can open up to and love and care for and who will do the same for him. And Keith has certainly proved that he will. Care for him at least. They’ll start with that.

When the movie finishes, Keith wakes up and Shiro has to laugh at the sheepish expression on his face.

“Next time I’ll let you pick the movie, huh?” he teases and Keith shoves a pillow over his head in embarrassment. 

It’s not until later with a couple of drinks in hand when Keith has the deck of cards divided between them and they’re half playing a game of poker or fish or whatever made up thing neither of them can remember the rules to that the conversation between them turns a little deeper. Shiro supposes it’s probably a good thing they’ve managed to come to this point on their own, rather than be sent another one of Lotor’s boxes of questions but it surprises him that it’s Keith that takes the first step.

“Can I ask you something?” Keith says after he shuffles a few cards and dishes them out. He’s not meeting Shiro’s eyes and Shiro can hear the tremor of something like nervousness in his words. Shiro’s momentarily distracted at how casual he looks, he’s pulled the hair at his nape back into a messy tie and his white t-shirt gives Shiro just a hint of collarbone at the base of his throat.

“Sure.”

“Why are you still single?”

Shiro frowns, not expecting the question at all. He raises his hand to wiggle the finger where his wedding band sits. In his other hand he’s still holding some cards.

“Ah, excuse you. I’m not single, I’m married, thank you very much,” he says with mock sternness. 

Keith rolls his eyes but he’s got an embarrassed little grin on his face. He looks like he’s about to get side tracked with another question he wants to ask and Shiro jumps in.  “Happily married, mind you.”

If Keith’s cheeks weren’t pink before, they’re flaming red now and he ducks his head for a moment.  Shiro can’t help but grin in satisfaction because he is. Right now, in this moment, he’s very happily married and he’s got high hopes for the future.

“You know what I mean,” Keith eventually manages to say, mildly exasperated.  “Why haven’t you been snapped up before now? Why have to resort to a social experiment?”

“Probably the same reasons as you,” Shiro answers with a light shrug. “Plus this,” and he gestures to his prosthetic then to his face. 

Keith’s eyebrows snap together and he squints at the arm like he’s never see it before. Shiro’s momentarily blinded by how gorgeous he is when he’s all intense and focused like that. 

“What’s that got to do with anything? That thing got a chip in it to stop you from calling guys back or something?”

That makes Shiro blink.  Then he sits back with rough exhale of breath.  “No, I- Jesus, you really don’t see it do you?”

“See _what?”_

It comes out mildly snappish and Keith narrows his eyes, like he’s not sure if Shiro is laughing at him or not. He’s not, of course he’s not but even with all the incidents trying to get through security at the airport, the stares, the malfunction that made him sick, Keith still doesn’t see it. Not really. Not in a way that changes the way he looks at Shiro, as if it might make him less human. 

“This must be one of the reasons they paired us,” he murmurs. 

“If guys turned you down because you’ve got a metal arm then you’re too good for them anyway,” Keith sniffs indignantly and Shiro is immediately charmed by his loyalty. He seems so fierce about protecting what he cares about from slight, imaginary or otherwise and it shouldn’t make Shiro feel as warm as it does.

“Thanks,” he comments softly but Keith doesn’t hear him, he’s too busy digging through his cards and then slamming a handful onto the table.

“Ha! Flush.”

“Wait, I thought we were playing Gin Rummy?”

“No, Poker.”

“Oh,” Shiro laughs and he can’t remember the last time he was as relaxed or as comfortable as he is right now. He has the irresistible urge to kiss Keith and he lays his cards down onto the table very deliberately and Keith notices straight away.   

“Don’t look at me like that unless you’re planning to do something about it,” he challenges and Shiro immediately feels his blood heat.

“Come here,” he murmurs and he’s suddenly thinking about Keith sitting in his lap as he’s kissing him and damnit, he’s been itching to get his hands on Keith all day. Ever since he’d finally told Keith the story of his accident the night before actually. He feels so much closer to Keith now without that between them and Keith, to his credit, didn’t seem to be looking at him any differently today. If anything, he seemed as relieved as Shiro that they’d been able to fall back into easy company. Keith had even restrained himself from nagging Shiro about taking some meds for any lingering pain and Shiro knew what that effort had cost him.

But Keith sitting there, loose limbed and eyes dark, Shiro finds himself _wanting_ him and he oddly can’t remember why they ever agreed to go slow in the first place.

Keith seems to swallow, then he’s rising from his chair slowly and making his way towards Shiro, crossing the space between them in two short strides.  He hooks his leg over and settles onto Shiro’s thighs, his hands coming to rest on Shiro’s shoulders. His dark brows meet in the middle where he’s watching Shiro’s face with such intensity it makes his breath catch in his throat.  Shiro loves that intensity. He can read Keith’s thoughts in his eyes as though he’s screaming it from the roof tops and he wonders if that’s just something he’s learned in their few short days together, or if Keith’s as easy to read to everyone else.  

He likes to think it’s just him.

He lasts all of a few seconds before his own hands are sliding up under Keith’s shirt, smoothing over the hard lines there and then he’s surging forward to steal the breath from Keith’s lips.

It feels different this time, this kiss. Their connection had always been powerful but this flowing between them now feels changed. It’s rawer and harder than before and Shiro’s hungry for Keith’s mouth, hunting after it and meeting it with his own when Keith teases and tries to pull away. He can feel the smile on Keith’s lips, then he’s dimly aware of Keith’s hands capturing the sides of his head, anchoring him still, the tips of his fingers digging into the buzz of his scalp hard enough it almost hurts. Keith takes control and Shiro lets him, unable to refuse him any quarter.

It turns out Keith is a storm he would be happy to lose himself in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ppllleasseee feel free to yell at me about this on tumblr (flashedarrow), i love hearing your thoughts!!


	19. tangled up in you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo... hands up if Season 5 emotionally compromised you too?  
> This might be a little more self indulgent than usual because S5 reaaallly messed me up.

There was something about the way Shiro looked at him across the table that told Keith they were on the cusp of something significant. It’s not just the heat in his eyes that beckons him, not the promise that he sees there, but something else, something deep and solid that is going to anchor them even as it lifts them up.

He should feel more nervous than he does but as he settles into Shiro’s lap and meets him kiss to kiss, it feels like he’s found the peace he’s spent most of his life not even admitting he was searching for. 

It’s happened so quickly, just a matter of days – enough that Keith feels like he should be trying harder to keep his heart hidden. No normal relationship moved this fast, right?

Then again, no normal relationship had the hands of science pushing them together, the months of trials and interviews and compatibility testing from a pool of candidates that numbered in the thousands. Maybe that had been their courtship and now it was just the culmination of that. Cutting away all the bullshit and the games and the backwards and forwards of the dating scene. 

Fuck that.

He’d never cared for it, he didn’t have the emotional energy to spare. If a guy liked him, great, if they didn’t, well, he had plenty of other things he would rather be doing.

There weren’t any games with Shiro. They’d quite literally laid their cards on the table and so far, their bond was strengthening and revealing itself like a diamond being polished and brought to life. Shiro had opened up to him in a way Keith hadn’t dared push for and by doing so, it stripped away whatever lingering emotional barriers there were between them.

Shiro’s hand slides up under his shirt then and Keith rocks his hips gently in answer, his skin heating from the contact and the sound of Shiro’s breath hitching. His hands settle against the sharp planes of Shiro’s jaw, his stubble barely there and scratching under Keith’s palms. He loves the way Shiro kisses him, they find a rhythm so easily and it makes Keith’s entire body thrum with an emotion he hasn’t felt in a long, long time. If ever.

He tilts his head slightly, hoping Shiro can read his intention and the kiss grows a little deeper and then it becomes clear that Shiro’s read him all too well because suddenly Shiro’s hands shift to slide under his thighs and Keith’s being lifted up. He doesn’t stop chasing Shiro’s mouth, looping his fingers around the back of Shiro’s neck and arching close even as Shiro carries him the few steps towards the bed and then he’s falling backwards onto the sheets.  Shiro presses over him and through their kisses, Keith can’t help but to hook his ankles at Shiro’s back.

Keith’s breath stutters as Shiro presses into him, his mouth moving from Keith’s lips to taste and brush against the side of his neck. He glances up and there’s only white like clouds and he shivers at Shiro’s hot breath against his shoulder. The mosquito netting creates a haze around them as though cocooning them from the outside world.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that they’ve ended up here, the heated glances between them had been steadily building all day. Shiro’s arm doesn’t even seem to give him any bother, he moves as easily and as confidently and without a single sign of discomfort or complaint as though nothing had happened.

As though Keith hadn’t sat up half the night watching his chest rise and fall and aching to do better, to take away the pain he was battling through in his sleep. Keith had taken in everything he could as he watched Shiro, from the shock of white hair against the black, the pale scar across his nose, the faintest smattering of freckles that could only be seen if he leaned a certain way. And Shiro’s lips, smooth and dusky pink and just pleading to be kissed. It was probably creepy to be watching him like that, Keith knew it, but he was unable to look away for long.

Keith turns his face now, his eyes drifting closed as Shiro mouths the sensitive spot behind his ear. God, Shiro knows, he knows just where to go to make Keith’s body sing but Keith lets him go only for a few moments before his hands fly up and he’s gripping Shiro’s head to bring their lips bumping together once again. He can feel Shiro laughing into the kiss even as one of his hands slides up Keith’s side and under his shirt in a slow drag and Keith can’t resist bucking into him in response. 

Then Shiro’s phone rings, a loud jarring musical tune that makes reality come crashing back and they rip apart. Keith has to gasp to catch his breath because it’s fast, this is all happening too fast and when Shiro pulls back Keith doesn’t even recognize himself in the reflection of Shiro’s eyes.

“Sorry,” Shiro murmurs between ragged breaths.  “We should-“

“Y-Yeah,” Keith rushes to answer. He tries to close his eyes against the fear of seeing something like relief in Shiro’s eyes. “I get it, too fast. Should probably pump the breaks-“

He hates the way those words taste and he almost chokes on them. The phone continues to trill but Shiro doesn’t move. Keith forces his eyes open, telling himself he’s not a coward and if Shiro wants to stick with going slow, he’s okay with that.

Except, he’s really not, but he’ll force himself to be patient. He’ll do that for Shiro, because he’s already so invested in this marriage, this thing they’re building between them and he wants it to work.

When his eyes finally focus, Shiro is looking at him with an expression that seems an awful lot like concern and that throws him. Shiro shifts, his hand coming to cup his face and Keith can’t stop himself from turning into it. The side of Shiro’s thumb, his human one, comes to rest on the corner of Keith’s mouth and Keith’s heart stutters again at the touch. Shiro frowns and brushes that warm thumb over Keith’s lips.

“Hold that thought, okay,” Shiro says softly and Keith has to hold his breath.

Shiro doesn’t move away until he tilts his head and Keith realises he’s waiting for a response. It takes him a moment to force himself to nod, but he does, just once and it’s barely a jerk. Shiro brushes his lips with his thumb almost sorrowfully again, one last time before he rolls away and off the bed, leaving Keith suddenly cold and missing the heavy heat over him.

He pulls himself up, tucking his knees against his chest as he watches through the gauzy material around the bed as Shiro grabs his phone and answers the call.

“Hunk,” he hears him say and Keith wants to groan when he realises the time. They’d agreed earlier that Hunk and Katie would check in around this time to follow up on the issues with the tech of Shiro’s arm, he’d just been too busy focusing on Shiro he hadn’t noticed the hour.  Saved by the bell, perhaps?

It was just a pity Keith really didn’t want saving right then.

 

* * *

 

“So, you’re clear on what you need to do?” Hunk repeats down the line. 

Shiro catches Keith’s glance and rolls his eyes. It’s the third time they’ve gone over it and Shiro is starting to become more suspicious that Hunk is fishing for some kind of intel on how the honeymoon is going rather than actually making sure that Shiro is up to speed on the diagnostics he needs to run on the arm.

“Yep, we’ve got it-“

There’s something muffled he can’t understand but he knows its Katie adding in her two cents in the background. Hunk’s voice goes distant and he yells out something like “I did!” and then abruptly, Katie comes on the line.

“Remember, go as hard as you can but if you get any pain or discomfort, stop.”

“Got it.”

“Get Keith to help you with the port if you can’t manage it one handed, it’s designed to be difficult to open.”

Shiro winces, this time shrugging apologetically in Keith’s direction. Keith’s got his knees drawn up to his chest and his mouth is in a tight line. With his brows snapped together, he looks intense but Shiro isn’t quite sure if it’s a result of Katie volunteering his services to help with the diagnostic exercises, or if was from happened earlier on the bed.

Shiro had come even closer than ever to just claiming Keith for himself. As much as he’d wanted to ignore the shrill ring of his phone, the tune some kind of musical soundtrack Hunk had picked out just for his calls, he knew he couldn’t. He wouldn’t put it past Hunk and Katie to jump on a plane and fly down there if he dared ignore them.

Besides, he wanted to make sure his arm wasn’t going to be an issue later because… _later_. Later he wasn’t going to let there be any interruptions, and as soon as he ended this call, he planned to broach the subject with Keith.

Sure, they’d made noises on the wedding day about going slow but that was when they’d only just met.  Now they’d had significant time together and even a small trial and Shiro was suddenly eager to make this a real marriage. 

Besides, physical intimacy was a huge part of a marriage and Shiro was suddenly very interested to know if they could work in the bedroom as well as they could as companions or friends.

He eventually manages to extract himself from the call and hangs up with a rueful smile and a heavy exhale. 

“Does she always do that?” Keith asks, one brow now raised.

“Has to have the last word? Yes,” Shiro chuckles. “Trust me, it’s easier not to argue sometimes.”

That makes Keith smile and just like that he unfolds himself from the edge of the bed and gets to his feet. It’s like he’s given himself a little shake and the tension he’d been holding onto earlier that made his eyebrows bunch so hard seems to disappear.

“So, what’s the plan? We find the resort’s gym and give you a workout?”

Shiro has to try very hard to stay focused when his mind starts to wonder about a different kind of workout.  He hides his wayward thoughts behind his hand and a light cough.

“You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to, I’m sure you’d probably rather be relaxing.”

“I think I am getting cabin fever cooped up in here from all the rain. I could use a workout too.  Besides, won’t you need my help to get the port open and connect those cables?”

It shouldn’t warm him as much as it should but the little smile that Keith gives him from under his bangs makes Shiro suddenly anxious to get going and get it over with so that _later_ will come all that faster.

But not before he clears the air.

“Keith,” he starts. “About before-“

“It’s cool,” Keith throws up a hand. “You don’t need to say it. We should slow down. Got it.”

“Actually,” Shiro replies with a frown and a slight huff of annoyance. Keith had jumped in and if that had been what he was actually planning to say, he might have let it go. He has to work at keeping his tone firm and not like a reprimand he’d give to an unruly cadet. “I was going to ask that once I do this workout and get the data to Hunk, would you… would you let me take you out?”

There’s a few beats of silence and Shiro suddenly wishes he could call the words back.

“What, like… like a date?”

Talk about the cart coming before the horse, Shiro briefly thinks. If he didn’t know better, he would think Keith is mildly suspicious.  Something about that makes him want to laugh but maybe it’s just those nerves making a sudden reappearance and causing his stomach to drop.  He knew he was taking a gamble here but it also feels like they’ve reached that point now.  They could draw it out, he supposes, stay friendly enough for the rest of the honeymoon, go back to their lives without experiencing the honeymoon in its entirety and then where would that leave them? There was too much heat between here, and Shiro wants to experience it.  But he’s also a romantic at heart and he wants to do this right.

He doesn’t plan on going through this again.

“Yeah,” he says as he drops his phone onto the nightstand and reaches for Keith’s hand instead. He tugs gently to pull Keith in towards him and happily, Keith doesn’t fight it. Shiro twines their fingers together and Keith leans into him.  “Call me a romantic but… I want this to be my last first time with someone. Hopefully yours too.”

Keith is so quiet and still against him, Shiro actually starts to wonder if he’s completely misread the situation and a wave of doubt and unease tries to lap at his heart.  Shit.  This was the sort thing he hated about dating, he was supposed to have fast forwarded through this part, wasn’t he?

“Unless I’m reading this wrong,” Shiro hesitates to say and Keith’s shoulders rise as he exhales a breath. 

“You’re not reading it wrong. I want that too, Shiro. You know I do. It’s why I’m here.”

Shiro’s breath catches a little when Keith pulls back enough to look up at him. Any nerves or guardedness he remembered from their wedding day had vanished and he was finally looking at Keith wide open and utterly exposed.  There was fire there, behind those mauve coloured eyes, but there was an assuredness too.  A strength that something deep inside Shiro recognised and responded to on a level that might have been far deeper than just primal. Something that ascended even the stars and the cosmos and a small shiver swept down his spine at the odd sensation he might have been here in this moment once before.

Keith squeezes his hand and it draws him back with a snap. He has to swallow before he continues.

“There’s… Uh, there’s a place I saw when we were exploring the other day that I wanted to show you.  Have you ever had teppanyaki before?”

“Tep- what?”

Shiro laughs. “Okay, I’m guessing not judging by that. Come on, let’s go work up an appetite.”


	20. all I got is this heart that I'm willing to lose

Despite the drizzling rain outside, the resorts gym space is surprisingly cavernous and empty of hotel guest bar the two of them. Rows of weight machines and treadmills greet them as they push open the doors and step inside and Keith’s already got his shoes off and is bouncing on the balls of his feet by the time Shiro turns around.  He has to pause for a moment to savour the view. Keith’s sweatpants are riding low on his hips, his tank already damp from their dash through the rain from the bungalow and it’s clinging to the curves of his lean muscles in a way that makes Shiro’s breath catch. Towards the back of the room the free weights line one wall and on the other, there’s a larger open space that Shiro guesses is a makeshift boxing ring judging by the few punching bags that hang from heavy chains on the ceiling. 

That’s where he heads to first, Keith trailing behind him.  He grabs a set of gloves and tosses them to Keith with a grin.

“Can you box? You look like the sort that might like to hit things.”

Keith catches the gloves easily and eyes them with distaste before he realises what Shiro just said. He narrows his gaze and something that sounds a little bit like a growl emanates from his chest, although Shiro can tell there’s no real heat behind it.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

Shiro pads over to the punching bag.  “There’s fire in you,” he tosses out over his shoulder. “I like it.”

Shiro’s not sure if he imagined it but he could swear there was a hint of a blush on Keith’s cheeks when he turns to face him again, but Keith hides it by focusing on the bulky gloves. There’s a distinct curl of displeasure on Keith’s lips and once again Shiro has to stop and admire just how attractive his husband is even if he’s a little pissed off.

“Do I really have to wear these? I’m better without them.”

“Best to protect those hands,” Shiro shrugs.

“Aren’t _you_ supposed to be doing the work out?”

“Call this bonding. I want to see what you’ve got.”

“If you want to see what I’ve got then boxing isn’t the way to do it.”

“Oh?” Shiro laughs then.  “What do you suggest then?”

Keith starts to yank the gloves off and when he’s free, he points to the floor behind Shiro. “Sparring,” and there’s a glint in his eye that makes Shiro realise he just might have severely underestimated his new husband.

“Okay,” he responds with the lift of a shoulder.  “We’ll do it your way then. But later.”

“Later,” Keith mimics through a smirk.  “It’s always later with you.”

“Hey, are you sassing me?” Shiro demands but he’s desperately trying not to laugh.

Keith’s got that now familiar glint in his eye that tells him he’s testing the boundaries with Shiro and oh god, he loves it.  When was the last time anyone challenged him like this instead of treating him with overreaching gentleness and kid gloves. 

Not that he didn’t appreciate the kindness but… damn, he’s not made of glass. Never has been.

Keith snorts and rolls his eyes but he humours Shiro by slipping the gloves back on with a huff. 

“Never actually learned how to box,” he admits after a moment. He eyes Shiro. “Why don’t you need them?” he asks suspiciously and Shiro taps the heavy punching bag hanging beside them.

“I don’t need them. You’re going to be punching this, not me.”

“I don’t know,” Keith mutters as he stalks over to the bag. His eyes flash again. “I might miss.”

Shiro is having a hard time trying to keep it together but he’s also enjoying this far too much. He wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to see what Keith had but it’s about more than just the boxing. It was also seeing how his husband responds to something outside his comfort zone, information he can file away for later down the track in their relationship should he need it.

At least that’s what he tries to tell himself.

“Stand like this,” he says and he demonstrates the stance Keith needs.  Keith copies him but when he lifts his fists with the bulky gloves, he pulls a face.

“I feel ridiculous,” Keith complains and he shakes his fists in the boxing gloves in irritation. “How can anyone feel anything with these things?”

“Patience, my young Padawan,” Shiro chuckles as he steadies the bag. Keith’s eyes go wide in mild horror and his jaw goes slack.

“Did you… did you just make a Star Wars reference?”

“Shhh, pay attention.”

“Oh my god, I’ve married a nerd,” Keith whispers it dramatically to an invisible audience and Shiro struggles to keep a straight face. 

“Hey, you recognised it. Who’s the nerd now?”

That shuts him up and Shiro’s almost disappointed. He was having far too much with their teasing and he really enjoys Keith’s fire. Keith goes from zero to a hundred in the blink of an eye and Shiro’s starting to understand why Lance gives him so much crap.  His temper is like lighting, sharp and fierce and lighting up the whole room before dissipating easily.

Shiro nods towards the bag and Keith takes a swing but there’s not much power behind it.  The glove thuds weakly against the bag. Shiro scoffs and shakes his head.

“Come on, you can do better than that.”

It turns out to be not the wisest thing to say because suddenly Keith growls low at the back of his throat and he swings again and again.  He’s fiercely determined but his technique makes Shiro wince even as the bag jars in his hands at the impact of each punch.

“Whoa, okay. Hang on, spitfire.”

He releases the punching bag’s heavy weight and steps around it until he positions himself behind Keith. He lays his hands smoothly onto Keith’s hips, holding them still without too much pressure and it registers pleasantly somewhere in his mind how narrow Keith’s hips are under them.

Shiro steps closer, his chest against Keith’s back and with one foot, he knocks against Keith’s ankles, forcing him to sink slightly and widen his stance. The position is suddenly rather intimate and Keith pants.

“What happened to going slow?” he mutters breathlessly then. Shiro isn’t entirely sure if he’s winded from the punching, or because of Shiro’s touch.

Shiro slides his hands slowly down Keith’s arms before circling his wrists and lifting them into the required position. He can feel the sudden tension in Keith’s body as he touches him and he grins to himself at the strangled sound Keith makes under his breath. 

“Slow, like this?” Shiro murmurs as he moves Keith’s hands again.

Keith hisses and Shiro can’t resist teasing him. His lips brush the side of Keith’s neck so lightly it’s barely a touch. He wants to go for more, but riling Keith up like this seems to set them both on fire and as it stands, it’s a monumental effort for him to pull himself away and step back as it is.

 _Later,_ he has to remind himself. They’ll have their fun later.

“Sorry,” he says, and he knows he sounds anything but. “I shouldn’t tease.”

“No,” Keith bitches back but it’s all bark and no bite. “You shouldn’t.”

He clears his throat.  “Okay, so let’s try it your way,” he says and Keith’s eyes light up.

They dump the boxing gear and kick off the diagnostic tool Hunk and Katie needed them to run for Shiro’s arm then Shiro picks up two of the kali sticks leaning against one wall that he hadn’t noticed earlier. The sticks were light and durable, made from the rattan that seemed to be common in this part of the world. There’s a pile of protective gear nearby but they both ignore it. He hands one of the sticks over to Keith.

Keith reaches for it and there’s barely a beat before he twirls it like some kind of baton, smooth and fast and he snaps it back sharply, the line of the stick following the line of his arm as he points it unthreateningly to the ground. The way he moved with such confidence and skill makes the blood rush in Shiro’s ears.

Oh. Oh, yeah. He suddenly can’t decide if he’s more nervous… or aroused. He realises in that moment he’s clearly underestimated Keith. No wonder he wanted to spar instead of box. The thought must have shown on his face because Keith smirks and taps the floor with the stick.

“You remember my uncles, right?”

“Yes,” Shiro answers faintly. He feels light headed, probably because all his blood has rushed south to a certain part of his anatomy.

Holy _shit._

“They’ve been training me since I could walk. No padded gloves in their dojo,” Keith’s smirk turns into an all-out grin and Shiro blinks.

“Well, you kept that under your hat,” Shiro manages to say, sure that his voice is coming out strangled.  Keith shrugs with nonchalance.

“We haven’t even been married a week yet. Got to have at least some surprises.”

And Shiro is more than surprised when Keith twirls the staff again and points it in Shiro’s direction. It looks an awful lot like a taunt and it makes Shiro grasp his stick and circle around the floor, all the while eying Keith.

They tap sticks and Keith offers him another cheeky taunt, enough that it actually gets Shiro fired up in a way that isn’t just to do with the attraction he’s feeling. He’s always had a bit of a competitive streak, although he’s been good at toning it down since moving into a position of guiding cadets.  He’d been one of the best pilots in his class for a reason but he figured it was probably poor form to wallop his students too much in the sim scores.  He tried to aim for encouragement more than soul crushing defeat.

He had a feeling he wouldn’t have to hold back with Keith.  If anything, he might struggle to keep up.  He was almost salivating at the challenge.

He settles into his stance as best he can, realising how rusty he is when it comes to this kind of training but it feels good to be doing something different than his usual weights and pushups.  This reminds him of his youth, before the accident, before even taking to the skies and his heartrate picks up.

Keith gives him barely a moment before he comes at him, and Shiro swings up his staff to block. His arm doesn’t have the grip he’d like it to so he’s forced to lean heavily on his human hand so his movements are slightly restricted.  As impressive as his prosthetic arm is, it still reacts a few seconds slower than the rest of his body so Shiro is forced to adapt quickly. Judging by the sharpness in Keith’s eye, Shiro suspects Keith won’t give him any quarter. 

They go through the motions, testing each other before Keith twirls his stick and comes at him again.  Shiro’s distracted by Keith’s beautifully feral smile and he receives a knock that’s hard enough to jar all the way up his metal arm. It doesn’t feel good and he grits his teeth and hisses between his teeth.  He steps back and Keith’s coming at him again, this time even faster. He pivots just in time and Keith slips past with barely a knock, trying to catch himself from tumbling from his own momentum.

“Nice,” Keith pants and Shiro barely has a second to acknowledge it before Keith’s back again and the clack of their staffs connecting ring out in the open space.

Keith has only just been starting to warm up, and Shiro grudgingly has to be impressed with his speed. Keith is sharp and fast, almost too fast for Shiro to keep his eye on but he’s also predictable, using the same patterns and the same feints and Shiro reads him easily enough to slip through his defences. The look of surprise on Keith’s face when he’s knocked to the floor, staring up at Shiro from flat on his back isn’t something Shiro will forget any time soon.

Of course, that’s also when he learns never to turn his back on his husband in the middle of a sparring match because less than a heartbeat later, he’s suddenly on his back beside him, staring up at the ceiling while both their chests rise and fall heavily from the exertion.

“Shit,” he mutters.

“So, that’s a tie, right?” Keith grunts and Shiro struggles to laugh through his choppy breath. 

“Will that help you sleep better at night?” he throws back and Keith snickers before he pulls himself up into a seated position. His hair is drenched and plastered to his forehead and his skin carries a sheen of sweat and he looks so appealing Shiro has to take a breath and look away. 

“Thanks for not going easy,” Shiro murmurs after a moment. He’s almost embarrassed to bring it up but Keith frowns at him as though he’s confused. Shiro holds up his hand in explanation.

It doesn’t seem to clarify anything for Keith because he just continues to frown.  “Why would that make any difference?”

Shiro rolls over and grabs a fist full of Keith’s shirt. He has a glimpse of Keith’s eyes going wide moments before he slams their lips together. It’s a hard kiss, sweaty and full of adrenaline and he’s not surprised when Keith hooks a leg over him and pins him back against the floor, then Keith is on his lap, pressing him down on the floor with his hands heavy on Shiro’s shoulders and his mouth stealing Shiro’s breath.

Stars help him. If just kissing Keith can set him on fire like this, he’s pretty sure the sex is going to kill him. He feels like a randy teenager just discovering his body for the first time, every sensation, every contact against Keith feels so good. Keith must feel it too, because the kiss turns less harsh and it slows. When Keith’s tongue finally probes at his mouth, it’s gentle and then Shiro’s sweeping his hands down Keith’s back and drowning in the way Keith’s mouth fits against his and the way he feels under Shiro’s hands.  

A loud clang and the crack of the gym door slamming open, followed by a flurry of voices speaking a language they can’t understand shocks them both out of their kiss. Keith nimbly rolls away and Shiro quickly pulls himself up into a seated position. He’s trying to avoid Keith’s eye as the small crowd of people arrive, a mixture of men and women in workout gear heading straight to the exercise machines but it’s next to impossible because he can’t look anywhere else.  There’s a part of him that needs to see the kiss on Keith’s face.  To see if it affected him just as much. 

He’s not disappointed when he climbs to his feet and Keith is staring at him like he wants to eat him alive.

 

* * *

 

Keith’s not quite sure how they managed to keep their hands off each other but somehow, they got back to their bungalow, showered (separately, much to Keith’s deep-seated disappointment) and changed and now they were back in one of the islands bustling tourist spots, weaving their way through the crowds. Shiro has his hand clasped warmly around his and he pushes ahead into the mass of tourists around them. It was so colourful here, neon lights flashing, the music and shouts and laughter from a hundred different bars spilling out into the street. He tries not to stumble as he looks around wide eyed.  It was certainly a lot wilder than home.

The crowd seems to press in around them and Shiro slows down. His grip on Keith tightens slightly and Keith takes it as an invitation to press a little closer to Shiro’s back.  He peeks around Shiro’s shoulder to see a group of street performers shuffle past, colourful costumes and colour characters in what looked like some amalgamation of the island’s traditional clothing and more modern threads twirling past. There was even one guy with a fat and heavy yellow snake curled around his shoulders, waving it into the faces of nearby tourists as they screeched and jumped backwards, leaving the man cackling in their wake.

Keith makes a mental note to steal clear of that one.

Once the performers passed, they start moving through the crowds again until they finally reach a slightly quieter area. Quiet enough that at least Keith was able to walk beside his husband and not behind him. He couldn’t even enjoy the view of Shiro’s ass thanks to the uneven pavement and litter that spilt out of the gutters. So many people, so much life from all walks and in a strange way it makes him vaguely uncomfortable at the press of tourists gaping and the locals struggling to capture their attention and their funds.

Shiro pauses eventually under a bright red and orange neon sign and gestures inside, one eyebrow raised. 

“Trust me?” he grins and Keith peers past him to the interior of the restaurant.

There’s a distinctly different feel to it compared to the bustle of the islands tourist district. It’s no less thriving but it seems slightly less busy with patrons. There’s what looks like a few wide tables set up in a U shape with a large sizzle plate in the centre, small stools aligned around the edges and a black clothed chef in the middle, flipping the various meats and vegetables in dramatic fashion. At one point, a thread of bright orange flame flashes up, much to the delight of the other patrons and they cheer in appreciation.

Shiro moves them to one side of a table towards the back and slides in. The busyness of the restaurant means they have to sit close together at the bench, their thighs side by side.  Shiro’s hand falls to Keith’s waist as he slips his arm behind him and as they are seated, a server comes by to lay down a napkin and a set of chopsticks.

“So, is this okay?” Shiro asks and Keith can see he’s not entirely sure what Keith’s reaction is going to be and that makes Keith slide his hand to Shiro’s knee and squeeze it in encouragement, or maybe thanks. He’s not sure, he just knows he’s suddenly really happy to be there in that moment with Shiro. 

“More than okay,” he answers and Shiro’s smile is almost shy as he turns to beckon a server over to order their meal and some drinks. A small bowl of something hot and steaming that Shiro tells him is miso soup is placed in front of him and he watches the chef as he flips and chops the food cooking in front of him as he takes a sip.

“So, this is the closest I could get to showing you a part of my childhood,” Shiro says. It’s loud in the restaurant and Keith has to lean in to hear. He catches a waft of Shiro’s cologne, something warm and heady that settles right into Keith’s bones.  “Severely diluted by the tourist trade here, but close enough.”

Keith eyes the chopsticks on the table with trepidation.  “I’m not so sure about those,” he says back and points at them.

Shiro chuckles and the arm around him slides away as Shiro picks them up and demonstrates how to use them.

“Here, you try.”

“Your hands are so much bigger than mine though,” Keith frowns as he takes the chopsticks from Shiro with hesitation. He tries to position his fingers the way Shiro had and he has to poke his tongue out to one side as he concentrates.

“That’s not necessarily a good thing,” Shiro says wryly.  “I’ve just had a lot of practice.”

Keith wants to say something sly to that but he’s too mindful of the other people seated around them and the way they have to raise their voices slightly to hear each other. He practices a bit more then settles in as Shiro starts to chat to the chef as he pushes the sizzling food around on the hotplate.  It takes him a moment to realise they’re speaking in Japanese and Keith can’t stop staring at the way Shiro’s lips move, the way his voice changes in tone and lilts in his native tongue. It’s like music and Keith is fascinated. Shiro catches him gaping.

“Sorry, that’s rude of me. I was just asking the chef how long he’s been here and if he can recommend any good out of the way places worth visiting-”

“Teach me something,” Keith says suddenly and Shiro’s brows come together.

“What?”

“In Japanese,” Keith clarifies.  “Teach me something.”

Shiro exchanges a glance with the chef who’s suddenly nodding and smiling. Shiro smiles too and it lights up his face enough to make Keith’s breath catch. He’s a goner now. He’s madly in love with this man.

As the food cooks in front of them, Shiro tries to teach him a few basic words, explaining how to form the sounds. Keith’s never had much of an ear for languages and it turns out he doesn’t have much of a mouth for it either and he ends up butchering his attempts much to the horror of Shiro and the chef. Keith should be mortified at his failure but Shiro looks so pleased that he’s even tried that it makes it totally worth the embarrassment.

The food is served to them and Keith attempts to use the chopsticks without much success. Shiro makes it look ridiculously easy so Keith grits his teeth and forces his hands to hold the thin plastic sticks but his grip is still clumsy. He manages to collect one lone piece of grilled chicken but it slips and lands with a spat on his plate, sending up a splash of sauce onto his shirt. He growls in frustration and Shiro murmurs something encouragingly he can’t quite catch.

A moment later and Shiro curls his arm around him as he drags his stool closer. Shiro positions his own hand on top of Keith’s over the chopsticks and guides him. Together, they manage to get one piece into Keith’s mouth and Shiro lets go but without Shiro, Keith can’t duplicate the action on his own and he’s starting to get annoyed.  In frustration, he drops one chopstick and holds the other aggressively, then he dares Shiro with his eyes as he deliberately impales the chunk of spicy chicken on his plate as though stabbing it with a knife.  Before he can lift it to his mouth though, Shiro yanks it away. He doesn’t even try to hold back his laughter.

“Keith, no, baby-”

_Baby._

Keith has to blink even as a shiver skitters over his skin. It’s loud in the restaurant but he hears Shiro call him that as clearly as if they were the only two people in the room.  It sets something off in his head. He’s never been called that before, let alone with such tenderness and it twists his insides so beautifully he’s surprised he doesn’t shatter right there and then.

He realises how amused Shiro looks that Keith’s suddenly glad he’s so hopeless with the chopsticks. Although, his when his stomach rumbles in hunger he briefly considers pinching one of the chef’s knifes to feed himself with, or short of that, using his bare hands.

“I’ll feed you,” Shiro says once he’s managed to contain his laughter and he uses his own chopsticks to lift food to Keith’s lips and then their eyes meet and the air between them becomes heated.  The laughter fades from Shiro’s smile as his eyes drop to Keith’s mouth and Keith is gratified to see them go dark when he parts his lips and takes the morsel from Shiro’s chopsticks.

“I suddenly wish we ordered this to go,” Shiro murmurs. Keith lets out a small huff. 

“You wanted to have a date, Mr Romantic,” he teases.

Shiro slides closer with his stool until there’s hardly any air or space between them and they’re able to find a way to eat that at least satisfies their physical needs for nourishment. Keith likes how they’re in a room full of people but Shiro’s only focus is on him. He’s never had this before. This fierce sense of belonging to another human that isn’t born by blood or duty. It feels like a mantle they’ve thrown around themselves, a tether between them that insulates them from the rest of the world.  The worlds of Lance’s wedding speech come back to him: _all your joys will now be magnified by two because now you can share them together. All your trials and tribulations have now been halved_.  He daringly lets himself take a glimpse into the future, when they’re older and wiser and sharing Christmas with the Holts and spoiling Lancey Lance Junior and the joy is so fierce it physically hurts. He wants that. He wants those years with Shiro, to be at his side through all of it.

Shiro’s watching him with a gentle smile on his lips and a knowing look in his eye as though he’s read every single one of Keith’s thoughts. He feels abruptly emotional, like he’s about to burst into tears at any moment because he can’t hold the overflowing cup of bliss in his hands and instead it’s just falling over the sides and sparkling all over the floor and Keith finally understands why the world is so obsessed with love, why wars are fought over it, songs written about it, why people kill themselves over it. 

When Shiro asks gently if he’s okay, it’s on the tip of Keith’s tongue to say it _._

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

He kisses Shiro instead.

* * *

 

Art by [yumikoyuki ](http://yumikoyuki.tumblr.com/post/172082569054/a-moment-from-the-fic-married-at-first-sight)


	21. even when I lose I’m winning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG LOVE to Jay (nutella0mutt) for all your help on getting me unstuck on this and the next few chapters! **MWAH**

Keith honestly isn’t sure how he managed to make it through the rest of their date without blurting out the words that were now engraved somewhere on his psyche. Once he’d managed to pull himself away from Shiro’s lips long enough to get himself under control, they’d continued their meal and their easy banter, all while Keith tried to fold his emotions up neatly into a box and failed hopelessly.

“You’re on fire tonight,” Shiro laughs as their plates get cleared away. They’ve finished their meal in front of the sizzle plate but they’re still nursing drinks so they make their way to one of the smaller tables at the restaurants fringes. It’s still not quiet, the restaurant is teaming too much for that, but at least they have a little bit more space than before and it’s easier to hold a conversation.

Once they settle in, Shiro looks at him with such fondness in his eyes that it makes Keith want to yank him close and kiss him. Again. And maybe even a little more after that. For the sake of the patrons nearby, he restrains himself, and then for a split-second wonders when did he suddenly become okay with such public displays of affection.

Since he married Shiro, it seemed.

Keith grins at his husband, thinking about how much easier that feels to say now. 

Husband.

_Husss-band._

He must also be a little drunk from the sake Shiro encouraged him to try because he doesn’t ever remember feeling this light, like the tethers keeping him to the earth have snapped and if Shiro takes his hand off him for even a second, he’s going to float away into space. He leans closer to Shiro.

“Husband,” he says it out loud, experimentally. It feels good.

Shiro is watching him with amusement and a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, dear?”

Shiro drawls it out and one side of his lip tugs up and Keith can see he’s trying not to laugh. Keith cocks his head then leans in a little closer.

“Husband,” he says it again, this time softer and huskier and his gaze drops to Shiro’s mouth then back up. Shiro’s eyes go dark and somehow that feels even better.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me again?” Shiro says after a moment, his tone half way between strained and amused. Shiro looks uncomfortable enough for Keith to know he’s aroused under the table but also conscious enough of the nearby restaurant goers that he’s trying to hide it.  It briefly occurs to Keith he could push the issue but he opts not to… for now.  Baby steps after all.

He leans back, far enough out of Shiro’s reach that Shiro lets out a little huff that Keith hopes is disappointment.

“Still getting used to saying it,” Keith says and he tries to make it sound nonchalant. 

It’s too bad that he makes the mistake of noticing how wide and strong Shiro’s hands are gently curled around the side of his glass because he can’t help but picture those hands on him, sliding over his skin, dipping into low places and it immediately sets his blood tingling. He’s forced to smooth his palms over his jeans in a concerted effort to get himself under control.  He almost has to sit on them just to keep his hands to himself.

Honestly, he found himself not caring too much about what the people around them would think of his constant touching and kissing of Shiro (they’re newlyweds after all!), he was only concerned about potentially making Shiro uncomfortable. He was fairly sure Shiro wouldn’t rebuff him if he lost himself too much but he didn’t want to risk what was building between them on something so trivial. 

They would have plenty of time alone together later.

Shiro holds his gaze and Keith again has that unnerving thought that Shiro is reading his thoughts. He swallows. 

“I thought it would feel weirder, but I can’t imagine calling you anything else now.” 

Keith ducks his head at the confession, surprised at himself he let the words come out and how they sound a little cheesy in his own ears. He reaches for his drink to give him something to do while he waits for the heat in his cheeks to fade.

“We did kind of skip the whole boyfriends phase, didn’t we?” Shiro replies.

He glances over Keith’s shoulder and signals to what Keith presumes to be waitress. The bill arrives and Shiro reaches to pull out his wallet, cutting off Keith’s protest with a quick, chaste kiss. “My treat,” he murmurs and it makes Keith feel suddenly giddy and ridiculous like some kind of high school teenager.

“I’ll get the next one then,” he says firmly and that seems to really please Shiro because he gives Keith a wide smile that flashes him straight white teeth and Keith can hardly breathe at how bright it is.

_How is he so beautiful?_

“So, date nights will be a regular thing once we get home?”

“Sure,” Keith shrugs lightly, having managed to tear his dreamy gaze away.  He’s looking down as he gives Shiro a little nudge.  “But next time I expect flowers,” he grins and Shiro laughs.

“And chocolates?”

“Definitely. Those little Italian ones with the hazelnuts.”

“Flowers and chocolate and date nights, got it,” Shiro gives him a serious nod.  “I can do that.”

“Best husband ever,” Keith chuckles quietly and Shiro shoots him a look. 

“I hope that’s not speaking from experience,” Shiro says and it takes Keith a few seconds to catch on.

“Uh, no.  Definitely no other husbands hiding in the wings,” he confirms firmly.

He’s pushing his empty glass away, feeling the warm buzz in his stomach from the alcohol but deciding he doesn’t need anything else tonight when he gets the feeling that Shiro is hesitating.  When he looks up, Shiro is watching him closely.

“What about exes?” Shiro asks quietly then. “Any of those?”

“Exes?”

It’s not at all what he had expected Shiro to say and Keith laughs. It is kind of funny to imagine himself with an ex. You actually had to have an inclination to want to date, let alone finding the time to build a relationship around the crazy hours he worked, both of which he had none of. He shakes his head and it tickles something at the back of his mind that Shiro seems a little too invested in his answer for the position they were in.  Okay, so that was kind of weird.

Then it occurs to him he should probably be wondering if there’s any lost loves in Shiro’s past too.  He’s almost afraid to ask.  What if there’s some grand love affair that broke his heart that Keith and their fledging romance would never be able to live up to.

“What about you?” he finally asks but Shiro shakes his head with a smile and then he’s doing that thing again where he lays his hand at the base of Keith’s spine and moves it in slow comforting circles. Keith has to fight the strange urge to purr over the way it makes his bones turn to jelly.

He lets himself enjoy it for a few moments. He doesn’t purr but he hums a little as he tilts his head and studies his husband. Here was a man who clearly had a lot going for him. How did no one snap him up before now? How had no one fallen in love with him before now? It seemed impossible.

“What made you do it?” he surprises himself by asking. “The experiment of all things? Why not just use-”

The memory of the dating app logo on the home screen of Shiro’s phone pops up unbidden in Keith’s mind and it leaves him instantly cold. It saps away a little bit of his buzz and he can’t help but freeze in midsentence. Does he really want to go there right now- Tonight, with the intentions Keith not so secretly has harbouring in his chest for getting Shiro naked and under him once they got back to the bungalow.  “You know what?” he mutters, “Never mind.”

Shiro looks at him strangely, obviously picking up on his agitation and Keith wants to kick himself. He plasters on a bright smile and leans in against Shiro as he glances around the bustling restaurant. Shiro’s hand, which had stilled when he blurted out his question, starts moving again. He was half expecting Shiro to pick up the thread and run with it, but he’s relieved when Shiro leans in towards him and his lips brush past Keith’s temple.

“Well… _husband-“_ Shiro breathes and the way he says it sends a spark of heat right to his core. He can’t help a little shiver in response and the lips at his temple curve into a smile.

Keith knows where this is going and suddenly his heart is thumping so loudly in his ears he almost misses what Shiro says next. “Ready to get out of here?”

Keith doesn’t need to answer with words, he simply nods once and then Shiro is leading him out of the restaurant and back onto the street. The tourist crowd has picked up and the streets are even more crowded than it was earlier. He tries to say something to Shiro but even raising his voice, they can barely hear each other so he just points at a taxi in the distance and mimes getting in. His message seems to get across because Shiro nods and then it’s Keith trying to drag him through the crowds. The third time someone steps directly into his path makes him growl and consider that Shiro has a distinct advantage pushing his way through considering his height and width. It can’t be his imagination the appreciative glances thrown Shiro’s way as the crowd instinctively parts for him and something small and petty in Keith’s chest sits up and hisses at them, all the while chanting _mine, mine, mine._

The first taxi they try to barter with names an outrageous sum to take them back to their resort and Keith almost agrees on the spot just to get them away from the crowds. Not only are the tourists in greater numbers, they’re also a lot more drunk and Keith really doesn’t fancy having to deal with some drunk vomiting on his shoes. It had happened once in his rookie days working at a music festival and the smell of it still haunted him. So did Lance’s laughter because he didn’t let Keith live it down for weeks.

He catches Shiro’s eye and Shiro gives him a slight shrug and a half-hearted attempt at bartering.  The taxi driver grins unashamedly when they agree and climb into the taxi and then it’s peeling away into the traffic. It moves agonizingly slowly through the crowded streets but cocooned snugly against Shiro’s side in the back seat, Keith isn’t bothered. It gives him a chance to breathe and reflect and then it hits him that they’re going back to their personal haven on the beach to consummate their marriage.

It feels weird to think of it like that and there’s a tiny part of him wonders if this is as good as it’s going to get. What if they go back to their bungalow and then the sex is terrible? The experiment has been working beautifully for them so far, what if this is the area they falter?

His mind tries to run away from him with a host of _what if’s_ and he almost lets it, until he sucks in a lungful of air and in the confined space of the taxi, he breathes in the smell of Shiro’s skin. It goes straight to Keith’s gut, sparking up embers that he knows might burn him alive later.

It’s strange how it happens. It’s abrupt and Keith isn’t sure what caused it but all at once, his good humour fades a little and the nerves slink back hungrily to settle in with sharpened claws in his gut.  The embers falter under their force.

The cab had been too noisy to hold a conversation in the island’s party district, but now on the quieter roads leading back to their resort, the silence has sunk its weight into them and it feels heavy enough that Keith isn’t sure how to move it. There’s a few things on the tip of his tongue he wants to say, partly to reassure Shiro, who’s also gone surprisingly quiet, but also to reassure himself.

After tonight, there wouldn’t be any going back and with the revelation that hit him like a freight train during their meal, he wasn’t sure if he was about to follow through on a decision that could break him into pieces, or if it would simply solidify his future.

Both outcomes were equally terrifying.

He briefly wonders if maybe he should be building those internal walls around his heart back up, or shoving that box of emotion he felt for Shiro into the darker recess of his mind. He could shut it out, surely. Compartmentalise. He did it all the time at work in his job. He had to.

Except that when it came to Shiro, he already knew he couldn’t shut anything out. It was too vivid, too powerful, too… real.

“Keith,” Shiro finally whispers in the dim lighting of the cab and he shifts slightly, forcing Keith to sit up.  He has to blink to bring himself back into the moment and he casts a quick glance at their driver, but he seems oblivious to them. The driver’s head is nodding along to music foreign enough that Keith can’t even recognise the language playing through his headphones. It’s turned up so loud it leaks out the tiny speakers until it’s just barely there background noise for the cab’s passengers.

“Yeah?”

“If you’ve changed your mind-“

“What?” Keith peels his back off the seat and twists around to search out Shiro’s eyes in the darkness of the cab.  “No, why, have... have you?”

Shiro’s answer is faintly apologetic, like he’s sorry that he feels the way he does but also, not really sorry at all. “Not a chance.”

Keith lets out a little huff of relief at that and he takes Shiro’s hand. It’s his metal one and he rubs the back of it with enough pressure that he knows Shiro will feel it through the tech.

“Me neither.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Settle down, it's coming soon you heathens ;)  
> (I LOVE YOU ALL)


	22. for your eyes only

It’s been a good night, Shiro thinks.

Keith’s tucked up against him in the back of the taxi and he’s warm and pliant. He’s absently rubbing Shiro’s metal arm hard enough that it’s sending trickles of feedback into his brain from the tech and Shiro’s not quite sure if it’s uncomfortable or arousing so he settles on somewhere in the middle. 

Shiro’s own hand lingers on Keith’s knee. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s dark in the cab or the fact he’s feeling closer to Keith in more ways than in just the physical, but it makes him brave. He shifts closer to Keith, brushing his lips over Keith’s cheek and he lowers his voice.

“I can’t wait to get you back to the bungalow,” he says quietly and even he’s surprised at the huskiness of his voice. He likes it though, and the effect on Keith is almost instantaneous. Keith goes rigid against him, limbs and shoulders tight and that makes Shiro want to grin to himself in smug self-satisfaction. Keith’s head turns, ever so slightly and through the reflections on his skin from the lights on the taxi’s dash, Shiro can see him narrow his eyes speculatively.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Shiro murmurs. 

Keith’s breath hitches beautifully when Shiro’s hand slides up his thigh and Shiro wants to hear that little sound again and again, although preferably with Keith naked and on his back on crisp white sheets and not in the backseat of a cab.

Shiro wonders if Keith has the same thought because he hears Keith swallow audibly. It sends a warm little thrill through Shiro’s chest and it takes a supreme act of willpower for him not to slide his hand any further. He’s mindful of the taxi driver up front. The last thing he wants is to end up too hot and heavy with Keith in the backseat and ending up having to walk their way back to the resort.

He settles for letting his hand wander instead.

 

* * *

 

Keith virtually empties his wallet in the driver’s lap before scrambling out of the back seat to follow Shiro. It must have been the taxi driver’s lucky night because not only had they paid an exorbitant amount on the fare, Keith tipped him everything else that was left in his wallet. At home, the excess might have hurt a little but here… well, Lotor was footing the bill for this so Keith figured he owed it to be generous.

Shiro doesn’t wait for him, strolling casually into the resort lobby out of the deep blue night and into the golden glow of the tiki lamps and string lanterns that adorned the trees around the communal pool and bar areas. The bar itself was a little quiet but that was no doubt on account of the traditional island performance that was happening nearby.  The music flows out and Shiro gives Keith a grin when he wanders off in the direction that definitely doesn’t lead to their bungalow.

He hurries to catch up and grabs Shiro’s wrist. It’s his metal one so he gives it a squeeze for added force before he tugs on it.  “Wrong way,” he says.  Shiro flashes him a grin and keeps going and it takes a moment for Keith to filter through the heat in his veins to realise Shiro’s intentions and they are not what he’d been counting on in the cab when Shiro was getting handsy with him.  He lets out a decidedly annoyed huff.

“Really?” he protests. “You get me all hot and bothered in the cab and _now_ you want to play tourist?”

Shiro feigns innocence. “It’s the local island culture, Keith. We should broaden our horizons while we’re here. Maybe even have a drink at the bar-“

“Are you joking?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“No,” Keith plants his feet and crosses his arms. “Bungalow. Now.”

Shiro smirks widely at that. “Come on, Keith. You know what they say about having patience?”

Keith frowns, a little confused at the sudden change of topic.  “What? No. What do they say about patience?”

Shiro comes close enough to slip his arm around Keith’s waist and Keith wants to lean into the hold. Okay, Shiro’s body pressed back up against him. Much better.  But then Shiro has to go ahead and ruin it.

“It yields focus-”

Shiro draws out the _s_ slightly then he abruptly releases him and steps back.  The smirk on his face is even wider now and Keith almost growls.

“What the hel- Shiro, _no one_ says that.”

Shiro laughs and folds his arms. “So, no after dinner show or drink is what you’re saying then?”

Keith glances over Shiro’s shoulder at the dancers, their movements ethereal and powerful as they move to the music.

“I mean, if that’s the kind of after dinner show you had in mind, then you go right ahead but I might just hit the hay.” Keith makes an exaggerated yawn and turns on his heel. “It’s been a long day after all.”

Keith looks back over his shoulder in time to see Shiro pause. The smile slips from his face and his expression turns into something Keith can’t quite read. Well, he can. He just hopes he’s reading it _right_.

Shiro takes a step towards him, as if to follow and this time Keith knows he’s definitely reading it correctly. Shiro’s eyes go dark and Keith has to struggle not to let his own smirk show on his face.

He flashes Shiro a feral smile and Shiro’s eyes spark in response.

_Gotcha._

 

* * *

 

Shiro wishes he was back sitting in the chair or at least on the bed, that way maybe he wouldn’t feel quite so shaky. He’s not entirely sure if it’s his emotions making him weak, or just the effect of being in Keith’s orbit, but suddenly gravity is being dialled up enough that he’s trembling with the weight of it.

Shiro doesn’t understand how he hasn’t fallen to pieces yet.

Keith looks so beautifully otherworldly in the moonlight that spills into the bungalow. They didn’t bother with the lights, the moonshine illuminates everything in silver and somehow, the pools of shadow in the corners makes them both a little more comfortable. For all their banter and teasing earlier, the moment now feels heavy and the sensation that they’re teetering on the very edge of something monumental seems to leech into the both of them.

For Shiro, there’s also something else.  Something that sits heavy in his core that feels a little bit like coming home.

Keith’s lips curve and it’s not quite a smile. Shiro suspects the nerves are creeping back up on Keith like they are to Shiro and it reminds him of their wedding day. Was that really less than a week ago? He feels like Keith has been a part of him for far longer.  He lifts his hand, his human one, and holds Keith’s jaw lightly. Keith’s eyes glow indigo under the dark fringe of his hair and he turns his cheek, pressing a slow kiss into Shiro’s palm. It makes Shiro’s voice crack.

“Keith,” he says and his throat feels tight.  “Are you sure about this?” Shiro realises a moment too late how needy that must sound and he wants to call the words back.

Keith huffs and shakes his head slightly. “Shiro.” 

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Well,” he laughs softly and the warmth that blooms in his chest is all encompassing. “I can’t argue with that.”

“And yet you’re still talking,” Keith responds dryly but there’s a twist to his lips that is definitely a smile now. The weight on his chest lessens at the sight of it.

Shiro pauses long enough to tease Keith into releasing a growl and he laughs again before pulling Keith close and swooping in for a kiss. Keith answers him greedily, linking his arms around Shiro’s neck and pushing himself up with enough force that Shiro staggers back a step.

God, but Keith fits so well against him. 

Their mouths slant together in an easy kiss, Shiro’s hands slide around Keith’s back then lower down to cup his backside. Keith hums into his mouth appreciatively, pressing at him a little harder and then his tongue is probing at his lips. Shiro can’t resist opening his mouth to let Keith in. Keith is a greedy kisser, forceful enough to steal his breath and make him light headed and Shiro welcomes every part. 

He's savouring the feel of Keith against him when there’s a firm shove against his chest and Keith walks them backwards towards the bed. When the back of Shiro’s legs meet the mattress, he falls and Keith wastes no time clambering into his lap. It’s fast becoming Shiro’s favourite place for him, especially when Keith does that rolls of his hips and claims Shiro’s mouth in a searing kiss. Fuck, it’s so good. Keith feels so good.

He manages to pull back long enough to suck in some air. The blood is pounding wildly in his ears and it takes him a second to find his voice. Keith’s eyes look glazed and he shifts again on Shiro’s lap, and there’s not a single doubt that Keith is as fired up as he is.

 “Keith,” he gasps out and he has to grasp Keith by his arms to hold him back from lunging in for another kiss and Keith lets out something that sounds like a whine and god, its sets him on fire enough that he’s starting to _hurt._ “Baby,” he says. “Tell me what you want.”

“What? For you to shut up and kiss me again,” Keith mutters, faintly exasperated that Shiro is holding him back. He curls his nails against Shiro’s chest to in retaliation.

“No,” Shiro has to choke back a laugh that’s really just a groan. Fuck, why didn’t they talk about this earlier. Why are they even talking about it at all? Why can’t he just let it go with the flow and see where they end up-

Because this is their first time together, their first time before the rest of their lives and there are boundaries between them they still haven’t fully had the chance to explore. He doesn’t want to mess this up. He can’t. Keith is too deeply in engrained into his heart he doesn’t want him to slip away now.

“No, I mean what’s your preference-“ his words trail off on a hiss when Keith drops a hand to drag it over his groin. Jesus. Even he has trouble trying to remember what he’s saying when Keith does it again. Keith leans in for another kiss before Shiro realises he still doesn’t know what he wants.  “Keith,” he tries again, ducking away from Keith’s mouth.  “Tell me-“

It takes a few beats for the haze to clear from Keith’s eyes as Shiro’s query truly registers. It’s almost comical to watch the change sweep over his face. He blinks once, then there’s the barest flare of his nostrils. When he opens his mouth, nothing comes out.

Shiro wonders if he’s nervous. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want Keith to be nervous about anything with him. That wouldn’t be any way to start a marriage. It takes him a second to find his voice again. “I’m… flexible,” he finally adds with a meaningful look.

Keith goes very still on his lap at that. Shiro’s heart rate starts to pick up and the swirling heat in Keith’s eyes makes a wave of desire rush through his veins. He’s pretty sure he’s just given Keith the green light to have his way with him and suddenly the thought of Keith inside him is all he can think about.

“Yeah,” Keith breathes. He shifts back enough to pull Shiro up with him and then his hands are fumbling against the buttons of his shirt.  “Yeah, _Shiro._ ”

Keith is too fast for him, he’s got his own shirt undone and shoved off his shoulders even as he reclaims Shiro’s mouth again. Shiro can’t help but slide his hand up the bare skin of Keith’s back even as he struggles to unbutton his own shirt with his metal hand. He can’t get his fingers to obey the instructions he’s sending into the tech and he misjudges the strength he needs. Too late, he hears the rip of material and a button flies across the room to land with a faint clink on the floor.

“Shit,” he mutters and debates swapping hands but he’s reluctant to pull his human hand away from the warmth of Keith’s back. He hears Keith huff out a laugh and the small part of his arousal that had leaked away under his embarrassment comes back in force at that husky sound.

“Let me,” Keith says and then his hands are bunching in the material and it rips further. Keith slides it off his shoulders and dumps it unceremoniously on the floor.

“Okay-” he protests feebly but Keith cuts him off with a hard kiss.

“Shh, it was wrecked anyway.”

When Keith starts on the buckle of his belt, Shiro grips his husband’s hips. He tries to steal a kiss but Keith’s determination to get them both as naked as possible is overpowering and it’s not long before Keith’s palm lands right on the centre of his chest, pushing him backwards until he’s once again lying back on the sheets. He’s starting to get used to the very resolute direction Keith gives him and it feels good to let Keith take the lead. He spares a moment to reach for a pillow and the small tube of lube he’d stashed there earlier - at least they wouldn’t have to worry about fumbling around with condoms since the testing part of the selection process covered health checks for both of them.  Another benefit for the experiment he supposed. Keith catches sight of it and raises an eyebrow.

“I was a boy scout,” Shiro jokes and that makes Keith huff out another laugh as he helps him position the pillow under his hips and plucks the tube out of his hands. There’s a part of Shiro that’s starting to think he needs to just let go and hold on for the ride when it comes being in the bedroom with Keith.

Keith leans down onto him and he relishes the slide of Keith’s bare skin against his own. He can feel the heavy weight of Keith’s arousal against his stomach and they’re both already hot and leaking. Keith jerks as Shiro’s hand curls around him and he palms him slowly with a slicked down hand. Keith shudders in his arms but he lets Shiro stroke him before rearing up and kissing his way over Shiro’s chest and downwards in a way that leaves Shiro gasping. 

“Keith,” Shiro groans. His name sits prettily on his tongue. Like it was always meant to be there. “God, you feel so good.”

Keith slides lower, until he’s almost off the bed but it barely registers as Shiro falls into feel of him. Keith mouths at his skin and strokes him with his hands, causing his blood to spark. He feels like he’s flying and falling all at once and he can’t stop himself from arching against the mattress.

“You are so beautiful,” Keith says it hoarsely, and the words seem to land somewhere deep inside of him. Shiro can’t control the gasp and he squeezes his eyes shut. He’s aching and reaching and desperate for something he can’t quite articulate. Keith’s hand swipes over him and the only warning he has is the brush of Keith’s hair against his hip before Keith takes him into his mouth and he almost flies off the bed in surprise. 

“Oh, god. _Keith!“_

Keith responds to his moans by taking him deeper and it takes everything he has not to fist his hand roughly in Keith’s hair. It takes Keith a few moments to find his rhythm, he’s wild and over eager to start but then he finds his pace.  Somehow it makes it hotter, that Keith is so determined swallow him down him he doesn’t bother with too much finesse on how he goes about it

He’s so lost in the heat and feel of Keith’s mouth that he almost doesn’t register the slow breech as Keith nudges the tip of one wet finger inside him. Almost instantly it has him arching again and he doesn’t bother to hold back his shout. Keith hums around him at the sounds he makes and it makes Shiro groan out loud again. The intrusion goes deeper, enough to send a flush over his skin and his knuckles turn white against the sheets.

Keith bobs his head a few more times, enough to make something that sounds awfully like a whimper fall out of Shiro’s chest when he lifts off.  The cool air is almost a shock after the warmth of Keith’s mouth and a direct contrast to the heat in his veins. Shiro sucks in a deep breath and as Keith adds a second digit and lovingly presses a kiss to Shiro’s hip. 

“This okay?” he asks softly and it feels like his voice is coming from far away. Shiro is so lost in the vibrations of Keith opening him up and he’s sinking into the sensation.  God, but it had been so long since he’d had anyone do this for him.

“More-“ he pants, meaning to say _more than okay_ , but his voice gets caught in his throat. He doesn’t worry too much, just plain _more_ works too and Keith complies easily.

It takes almost more strength than he can find but he forces his eyes open to lock onto his husband. Keith is kneeling on the floor now, head bowed between Shiro’s thighs and his eyes dark with heat. There’s a single-minded ferocity to his expression, the way his brows bunch in their intensity and somewhere distant in Shiro’s mind it occurs that Keith’s barely touched himself, all his attention fixed solely on Shiro and it makes something twist in his chest.

 _You’re the beautiful one,_ Shiro thinks wildly at him, and then Keith finds that spot inside him that makes him quiver and he can’t think at all.

Another bloom of sensation spreads over his skin, and at his mumbled request, Keith adds yet another digit. He doesn’t have big hands, but they’re strong and they’re playing Shiro in a way he hadn’t believed was possible. He’s hot and aching and almost so weak against the sheets he’s not sure if he can take it. Somehow, he shifts enough to get leverage to move himself on Keith’s hand and the sound Keith makes scratches into psyche.  He wants that, he wants to hear that again.

He rocks again and thighs burn at the strain and it distracts him from the low hiss Keith releases before he pulls his fingers back. Shiro swears softly at the loss but he can barely catch his breath before Keith is there between his legs, pushing his thighs apart and settling in.

“Yes,” he sighs it out and watches through heavy lidded eyes as Keith slicks himself down again, then he’s falling forward, once hand planted firmly on the mattress beside Shiro’s ear, the other aligning himself against Shiro’s entrance. He mouths a kiss along Shiro’s collarbone, breathing out his name as he eases his way inside.  Shiro pants at the intrusion, savouring the stretch, savouring that it’s Keith filling him and leaking into all his empty spaces.

Keith is surprisingly controlled as he pushes slowly and draws out again. Shiro can see the tight set of his jaw, the way his hair is sweaty and damp against his forehead. He has to resist the urge to throw his legs around him and force him deeper. Keith slides in further and the expression on his face softens. 

“Shiro,” he whispers and the hand not holding him up skims its way up Shiro’s body soothing away the tremor in Shiro’s chest before landing to brace himself on the other side of Shiro’s head.

“More,” Shiro manages to gasp and he finds enough semblance of coherence to lift his hands to Keith’s hips and grip him there.  “More,” he says again then Keith is bottoming out and his brain skitters away from him.

Keith holds himself still as Shiro adjusts. It takes a moment for it to sink in, that the stranger he’d promised to make a life with less than a week ago is now buried to the hilt inside him and just how fucking _perfect_ it feels. It’s coming home, it’s reaching the stars, it’s the beginning and the end all at once.

The flutter of emotion overtakes the desire for a moment and Shiro’s hand trembles as he reaches up to cup Keith’s face gently, smoothing his thumb over his cheek. Even in the dim light he can see the emotions in Keith’s eyes and they are as wild and as tumultuous as his own. 

There aren’t any words between them in this moment. There doesn’t need to be. They said everything they needed to say at the wedding, at the ceremony in front of their families and friends.  They’d said their vows and made their promises. Shiro didn’t plan to back down on any of it and he was confident that Keith wouldn’t either.

Keith turns his face in against his hand and there’s another kiss against his palm before he starts to move, dragging the heat of him away from Shiro before pushing back in experimentally.  He’s watching Shiro sharply, and Shiro nods once before Keith shifts and slams into him again.

“Yeah, baby, you feel so good.  God, Keith-“

Shiro’s universe shrinks under the weight of Keith’s body on him. _In_ him.  There’s nothing but the drag and spark as Keith works him, nothing but the sound of Keith panting his name and the groans falling out of his chest.  He can feel his body straining, already searching for that elusive starburst every time Keith rides against his secret spot.

When he can’t endure it any more, he takes himself in hand. Keith pauses his strokes and a low hiss escapes from between his teeth. The spark in his eyes makes Shiro palm himself faster.

“Yes,” Keith snaps out and it sounds wild and feral and barely controlled. “Let me see you come, Shiro. Let me see you.”

He speeds up his ministrations and it’s Keith’s whispered encouragement that helps him chase down his climax. He focuses of the rasp of his voice, the way he moves. Keith plants his palms on Shiro’s hips more firmly, fingertips curling hard enough against his skin to leave bruises. He speeds up and it’s the thought of those bruises marking him as Keith’s that sends him shattering into starlight and it’s powerful and draining it makes his chest tight with a sentiment he doesn’t quite recognize.

It feels like a culmination. All of the emotion of the past few months relating to the experiment - the hopes and the nerves, the anxiety. It’s gone now and, in its place, Keith is there, nestled into the empty spaces of his heart as though he had never been anywhere else.

He’s still trembling with the force of it when Keith follows close behind and he’s aware of the heat flooding him. Then they’re both panting and sweat slicked and he gathers himself enough to pull Keith down against him and tuck his face into Keith’s hair.

 

* * *

 

Keith’s heart feels too big in his chest and he’s sure he can taste blood from biting down so hard on the inside of his cheek.  Shiro was so hot and tight around him but it was more than that, it felt like for the first time in his life, he was right where he needed to be. The words he struggled so hard to keep from tumbling out still beat around in his brain and in his chest but he wouldn’t – couldn’t – release them. Not yet.

When the stars clear from behind his eyes, Shiro pulls him down and he protests weakly at the sticky mess smeared between them both.  It doesn’t bother him, not really.  He’s too sated and wrought out to care too much.

He’s never felt so raw and empty and full all at the same time and in the furthest corners of his mind, he feels uneasy at the intensity of what loving Shiro in the physical sense entails. He tries to suck in a deeper breath but he just can’t catch it so he closes his eyes and focuses on the rise and fall of Shiro’s chest instead.

Both their hearts are still thrumming wildly, tandem heartbeats gradually returning to normal. Keith tries not to count them, concentrating instead on the way Shiro draws his hand over Keith’s back and presses a kiss to his hair and it’s a touch so intimate and soft it breaks down something hard inside of him in a way the zenith of the few moments before couldn’t. 

“Guess we should have a shower,” Shiro mumbles after a few long lazy minutes. It’s a nice thought but Keith is too worn out to move. He’s actually starting to feel a little sleepy now that the intensity has worn off and his heartrate is falling back into its normal steady range. 

“We have all night,” he says and he gropes for Shiro’s hand, curling their fingers together. 

“All our lives,” Shiro responds on a whisper and Keith knows he’s not talking about just a shower. Shiro squeezes their hands together and it feels like a reassurance that Keith shouldn’t need at this point of their journey but somehow, he does. There’s a few long beats of silence and when Shiro speaks again, his voice is thick.  “We can make a good life together, Keith.”

Something about the way his voice sounds makes Keith’s eyes prick. God, but it was exhausting being so exposed like this. He felt rubbed raw and emotional, like all his rough edges had been scraped and smoothed away and when he looked for those hard lines inside him, they were faded and soft.

He found slivers of Shiro there instead. 


	23. not gonna hide me from you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please yell at me on [ tumblr ](http://flashedarrow.tumblr.com/) if you want :D  
> also if you're an artist and has spare commission spots, msg me! For this chapter especially *eye brow waggle*
> 
> Also, mega mega thanks to everyone who's still reading and commenting and sticking with me on this - your support has been amazing and I've made some lovely connections and friendships already and it's just so wonderful - thank you!! <3333
> 
> \-- Art at end by [ seiteki9 ](http://seiteki9.tumblr.com/post/172052821679/as-requested-by-the-fantastic-talented) \--

Keith slips away to the bathroom, searching for a washcloth. He runs it under warm water and tries to catch his breath. It’s not the physical exertion stealing it now, it’s the realisation he’s in far deeper and far sooner than he ever thought possible and he thought he had accepted that.

Now he’s not so sure.

The water runs over his fingers, warming slowly and he watches it for a moment before raising his eyes and to stare at his reflection in the mirror. It’s strange, he should look different, he _feels_ different. He half expects there to be a neon sign flashing on his forehead proclaiming his feelings to anyone that looks at him.

There’s not though, of course there’s not.  There’s the same face that’s staring back at him as there always was.  Eyes too dark and deep in his head, pointy chin and cheeks too pale for what they’d just done. His hair is a mess, tangled from sweat and Shiro’s hands. 

Shiro… what if he looks different to Shiro now?  Will Shiro be able to read everything in his eyes like the lines on a page. Would he fold down those corners, stroke the letters and keep the book.

_We can make a life together._

Shit. _Shit_. He suddenly feels sick. It was brave, what they were doing, that’s what he’d been told.  Brave to take a gamble on something like this, brave to step up in the name of science, the big social experiment. And what did he have to lose really? He’d dip his toe in the water, he’d take it cautiously, he’d be open to the possibility of a true match but he’d hold himself in check for once in his fucking life.

Too late.  Too far. Too soon. _Too deep._

It had been easy to be brave when there was nothing to be afraid of.

Fuck. He just didn’t _know._

He’d been nineteen when he’d first been with a girl and it was lacklustre enough he didn’t care to repeat it.  At twenty-two, he’d been invited in by a boy and things finally clicked into place. It’d been better but even then, there still hadn’t been a drive in him to seek out more. So many relationships petered out before they even started under the weight of his training and his job and he’d wondered more than once if there was something wrong with him that he just didn’t _care._

So, holy hell. He didn’t know. He didn’t know it could _be_ like this. The emotion in his chest, the dizzying sensation that his heart was beating outside his body, completely out of his control. Shiro held him in the palm of his hand and he didn’t even know it. He had the power to crush him and it was terrifying to be at his mercy.

It builds up in his throat, the overwhelming urge to _run,_ but he fights it down and tells himself he can do this. He wants this. He wants Shiro. He wants that life Shiro talked about together.

He just doesn’t want to risk being broken.

He grips the edge of the sink and tries to calm his breathing and barely manages it right before a dark shape looms in the doorway and it’s Shiro stepping into the bathroom behind him. The room instantly feels smaller with Shiro’s bulk but then he comes closer and Shiro slips his hands around Keith’s waist and rests his head against his shoulder. The metal of his arm is still warm from their time on the sheets and Keith sags a little at his touch.

“Hey,” Shiro murmurs.  “Are you okay?”

It takes Keith a beat to gather himself and he mentally shoves down his dizzying panic. With Shiro warm around him, he feels fragile and needy but anchored too. He’s never let anyone have this kind of influence over his own happiness before. Not since his mom left.

He realises the sink is filling so he flips the water off and drains it.  The action helps to distance himself from his thoughts a little bit.

“Yeah, was just going to clean up.”

Shiro kisses the side of his neck and Keith watches their reflections in the mirror. There’s a softness to Shiro here, vulnerability and a need to be close that he doesn’t articulate with words. It’s sweet and it soothes the creature inside Keith that’s threatening to bolt. Shiro’s lips travel to the spot behind his ear and he lets his eyes close to savour the moment and just let himself be.

He tilts his head to give Shiro better access, concentrating on the feel of Shiro’s lips on his skin and he’s not disappointed. 

“Shiro,” he sighs and a shiver rolls over his skin. He feels Shiro smile before he lifts his head.

“You’re so good, Keith. There’s so many things I want to do to you.”

It takes only the briefest of moments for Keith’s brain to shift gears and his blood sparks. He groans a little at the physical touch. He reaches his hands up to curl behind Shiro’s head, rubbing his fingers over the short buzz there even as Shiro’s human hand detaches from his waist and slides downwards, skimming over his hip and thighs. It makes him gasp a little then their eyes are meeting in the mirror and the expression in Shiro’s hot gaze catches him by surprise.

“Keith,” Shiro murmurs and then his hand is wrapping around Keith’s length and holy shit, he’s already hard. Shiro plants another kiss against his throat, soft and slow and there’s something about seeing Shiro’s large frame curved around him in the reflection of the mirror that makes him almost lose it right there. Shiro’s so big compared to him and he shelters him like a mountain shelters a valley.

He feels safe and secure and then Shiro’s metal arm moves up to cover his chest, his bionic hand laying at the base of his throat and something about that feels mildly dangerous and he can’t think, he can’t tear his eyes away from the image they reflect. He gasps when Shiro tugs on him and he’s already leaking enough that Shiro doesn’t need much slicking. “Let me do this for you,” Shiro whispers and then Keith has to scramble for purchase because his legs feel too weak to stand. 

“God, Shiro,” he’s trembling and gasping and it doesn’t take long for Shiro to work him, even so soon after already coming once, he’s already back on the edge. Shiro holds his gaze in the mirror and it’s confronting and comforting at the same time. There’s nowhere to hide, the light is bright in here, his hair is damp and slicked away from his face, all he can do is close his eyes but when he does, Shiro stills. 

“Look at me, Keith.”  It’s a soft request tempered by steel and Shiro’s voice is like honey in his ear.

He blinks and Shiro’s gaze finds him again and it’s hot enough to set him instantly aflame. Shiro strokes him again, quick and sure, his eyes never leaving his, and Keith clinging to the hard band across his chest even as his legs shake.

Keith tries to fight it, to draw it out, but it proves impossible with Shiro breathing out his name against his cheek.

His defences are destroyed anyway. He can’t do anything but surrender.

He’s dimly aware of press of Shiro’s hardness against his back as he comes, splattering over the sink and sagging in Shiro’s arms and hoping belatedly that Shiro doesn’t let him go because he’s sure he hasn’t got the strength to hold himself up on his own. “Shiro,” and it sounds like a sob.

“Baby, that was so good,” Shiro whispers and his arm loosens as he takes his hand away. Keith can’t help the whimper the escapes him and then Shiro is turning him in his arms and scooping him up. The counter is cold and slippery under his ass but he doesn’t care and if he thought he was overwrought and over stimulated before, he has nothing now.

“Fuck,” he mutters and he’s surprised when a shiver rolls over him. It’s not from cold though, it’s from fatigue.  He catches the tiniest quirk of self-satisfaction on Shiro’s lips and figures he’s earned it. “God, I can’t-“

“So good,” Shiro says quietly again and tips Keith’s face up for a kiss. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you.”

Keith drops his head tiredly against Shiro’s shoulder. “What,” he snorts weakly. “A week?”

“Five days? Four? Who’s counting, it already feels like forever,” Shiro chuckles. He rubs Keith’s back tenderly and the tremble in his limbs starts to ease. “Shower?”

Keith nods gratefully and Shiro releases him long enough to flick on the water then draws him in under the spray. Keith’s helpless not to crowd close to him, letting Shiro support him and the water pool and catch between their bodies until he finds the strength to hold himself up again.

Shiro soaps them up, his wide hands making quick work of the mess on the both of them. He does the cheesiest thing by dumping a fingertip of suds onto Keith’s nose, making them both laugh at the ridiculousness of it.  Keith takes advantage of being so close to him, running his fingers over him, cutting through the soap suds and chuckling when Shiro gives him an amused grin and says something about needing time to recover. Keith is okay with that. He’s got nothing left in him even if just being in this close proximity to Shiro is enough to get his blood flowing. 

And… it’s nice. This is a kind of intimacy he isn’t used to. Past relationships couldn’t even be called that, it would imply there was something more than a fumble in the dark and a lot of missed opportunities. 

With Shiro, it was different. Shiro was searching for the same thing he was and just in that alone they’d found a connection. He places a light kiss on Shiro’s chest, tasting water and the tang of Shiro’s skin and Shiro responds by brushing his hair away from his face with a wet hand, making it slick back and lay flat against his head. It makes Keith feel strangely exposed but then Shiro places his finger under his chin to tilt his face up and kisses him like he’s something precious and Keith doesn’t quite understand what he’s done to deserve it.

“Does it scare you?” he hears himself ask when Shiro draws back. He doesn’t say it loudly, almost hoping that the words will get lost in the soft spray of the water hitting the tiles under their feet. He feels that rawness again, and his edges are bleeding.  It takes a few moments for Shiro to answer and it feels like an eon. 

“A little,” Shiro confesses and he follows it up with the pad of his thumb over his lips.  Keith melts a little under that touch. Every time. It’s like his kryptonite.

“It should be harder than this,” Keith doesn’t need to clarify his statement. Shiro is there with him.

“The experiment promised us a chance to find our soulmates. Maybe they were right.”

“Do you believe in that stuff? Soulmates?” Keith presses. For an odd reason, it’s suddenly important that they talk about this. Shiro’s gaze shutters and Keith has to swallow.  “It just seems too easy-“ 

He shakes his head, trying to make his thoughts line up but Shiro beats him to it.

“It has been fast. I came into this thinking…  at worst, maybe I’d make a friend. At best, someone compatible.  But this-“ he exhales and gives a slight shake of his head. “This is something I didn’t dare hope for.”

“You feel it too, don’t you?” Keith hates how raw his voice sounds, the fear and the hope in it.

“Yeah. Yeah, Keith. I feel it. This is what we both wanted. This is why we put our hands up for the experiment.”  He cocks his head then and rubs a hand over Keith’s back. It drags against the water running over him.  “Why are you fighting it so hard?”

Keith jerks back at that. “I’m not-“

Shiro lifts an eyebrow but he doesn’t move his hands. Keith focuses on that touch and leans back into it. A shudder rolls through him. They were on their honeymoon, they had an amazing day, less than an hour ago he had Shiro coming apart under him – he should be on cloud nine. He can’t understand why he’s just a fucking wreck instead.

He plants this forehead against Shiro’s chest with a frustrated groan. Somehow that’s easier that seeing the admonishment in his eyes that he’s sure will be there.  There’s a lot on the tip of his tongue that he wants to say.  _I don’t want to fuck this up.  I’m worried you don’t feel the same. I want you inside me. I want you to love me._

Shiro smooths his hair again then flicks the water off.  “Come on,” he says gently and hands Keith a fluffy white towel.  “We can talk more in bed.”

“Talk, huh? Sure.”

“You want to go for number three?” Shiro chuckles as he herds him back towards the sheets. “It’d be good for my ego if you managed that.”

“I owe you,” Keith mumbles, faintly embarrassed.

“Maybe I’ll let you make it up to me in the morning,” Shiro smiles at him then and it’s so sweet and loving Keith can feel those all-important words on his tongue again. He grits his jaw instead and nods.

He’s tired and a little overwhelmed and he doesn’t complain when Shiro folds him into the sheets still damp and warm against him.

“I meant it, Keith,” and he feels the vibrations in Shiro’s chest more than he hears the words. “We can make a life together.  We get along well, we have chemistry, we both want this.”

Keith tries not to read too much in to absence of the word ‘love’.  He doesn’t want to think about how much Shiro might be willing to settle.

 

* * *

 

 

Art by [seiteki9](http://seiteki9.tumblr.com/post/172052821679/as-requested-by-the-fantastic-talented)

 


	24. you're shaking my life up

They do end up talking in bed for a while.

They lay on their sides, turned in towards each other under the lazy turn of the fan in the warm night, with the sheets riding low on their naked hips and the aftermath of desire on their lips. Shiro catches a glimmer of starlight in Keith’s eyes and his universe shifts. The constellations he chases now don’t belong in the black, they’re in the smattering of pale freckles and beauty spots that line the living canvas of his husband’s skin.

He’s almost drifting off, floating on the wings of a soul deep contentment when Keith reaches out to him. He brushes a thumb over Shiro’s cheek, over his nose and to the other side. It takes Shiro a blissed-out moment to realise that Keith is tracing the dusky pink line of his scar.

“You lost your dream,” Keith says softly into the space between them.

It’s a whisper that reaches tendrils out to caress his ears, soft and mournful. He knows if he opens his eyes, he’ll see the ache of his heart reflected in Keith’s eyes. He knows, because he can hear it in his voice. He tries to not to think about it, those childhood dreams of chasing starlight, the years of his youth that had star charts lining the walls of his bedroom, the model rocket ships perched proudly on shelves next to trophies rewarding his excellence. He’d worked hard and it had showed and he’d seen a path laid out for him that would lead into the expanse.

It’s been years and it still hurts to think about. The pain isn’t as sharp now, it’s edges are dulled by time and distance but the ache is always there. The loss was something that tore at him as much as the shredded metal of the plane’s debris had at his body when it severed his arm and marred his skin. He’d lost so much when that prototype went down, and he lost more again when the garrison pinned the failure on him. _Pilot Error._ It wasn’t just his pride, his reputation, the legacy his grandfather left for him. It was faith in something bigger than himself, all gone in a violent flash of electricity across the sky.

Keith’s fingertips flutter away from his cheek and map the shape of his jaw. His touch is soothing and touches more than Shiro’s skin. It extends down into the core of him, deep inside his chest and into his very atoms.

It’s a different dream now. 

Simpler, quiet, but no less desired and yearned for. Two coffee cups in the sink, a second toothbrush beside his on the bathroom counter, sheets rumpled and warm- photos on the walls reflecting a life built and shared together. A peaceful domesticity that meant he wasn’t drifting through this age alone. Someone to come home to. 

Keith’s fingers trail against the back of his shoulder and a sigh falls out of him.  Not just someone. 

_Keith._

He melts into his husband’s touch. The peacefulness of sleep is hovering at the edges of his mind, calling him down and he follows it, secure in the knowledge he’s found what he wants. When he answers, his voice is quiet but contented.

“I have a different dream now.”

 

* * *

 

Keith watches from behind his eyelids as the sunbeams slowly creep over the floorboards and the morning breaks. He’s almost afraid to open his eyes and start a new day.  He’s still can’t be sure that the night before wasn’t some kind of fever dream.

But then he registers the weight of Shiro’s arm across his stomach and feels the light stubble on Shiro’s jaw brush against his shoulder and he can’t help the happy flip flop of his heart when Shiro shuffles closer.

“Excuse me,” Shiro murmurs.  “Have you seen my husband? I seem to have found a handsy octopus in my bed instead.”

Keith’s eyes fly open as he laughs and just like that, his fears that things between them would be different in the light of day disappear on a puff of warm breath.

“Who are you calling handsy,” he grins, giving Shiro a light shove. His husband’s hands starts to wander aimlessly over his skin.

Or, not so aimless, when one of them ventures lower down his torso, over his hip and yanks the sheet away.  It dances close enough to Keith’s groin that it makes him suck in a deep breath and a low heat starts to build.  It’s Shiro’s bionic hand and the softer silicone tips drag against Keith’s skin in a way wholly different than his human hand.

“I can’t control it, this thing has a mind of it’s own.”

That makes Keith snort. 

“You’d better call Hunk then,” Keith says it seriously, even as he tries to arch away. But not too far, the thrill on his body makes him breathless. “Get it checked out. I can recommend some tests-“

He can’t say anymore because Shiro’s suddenly got him pinned with the slide of his thigh. He hooks it over his hips and the movement sends sparks straight down until he has to struggle to choke back a moan. He isn’t focusing on Shiro’s thigh though, his awareness is firmly latched onto the path of Shiro’s metal hand as it walks over his skin.

He’d felt that hand resting at the base of his throat last night, felt the weight of it there as he fell apart. He wonders what that says about him that he wants to know what that metallic hand feels wrapped around his length. He wants to feel it in other places too, but he refuses to let his mind wander too much in that direction.  That wasn’t something he wanted to have to explain to Hunk or his firecracker of a girlfriend if it malfunctioned again.

Shiro sees the frown flit across his face and answers it with one of his own. “Where did your mind just go?”

“N-nowhere,” Keith manages to grind out. He tries to concentrate on Shiro’s touch, to arch into it (not so easy when Shiro’s so heavy on top of him), only to feel Shiro release him and roll away. He grunts in protest. “Hey!”

“I’m starving,” Shiro offers by way of explanation. He flashes Keith a grin as he pushes back the sheets and pads his way barefoot and naked to the bathroom. Keith runs his eye over Shiro’s body appreciatively. The man was an Adonis. And he was Keith’s.  A tiny part of him feels smug about that.  “I just need to wake up first.”

It’s not lost on Keith that Shiro leaves the bathroom door open.  If he leans a little to Shiro’s side of the bed (they have their own sides now, like a real couple, wow what the hell) he can almost see the soft plumes of steam curling and wrapping themselves around Shiro’s body.  He’s pretty sure Shiro doesn’t need to arch quite like that to wash his hair and the way the water runs down his spine has Keith’s body responding in ways he’s not interested in fighting.

God, his husband is a fucking tease sometimes.

He finally joins Shiro in the shower, sliding his arms around Shiro’s waist and resting his face against Shiro’s wet skin. He hears Shiro hum under the spray of the water and he rubs one of Keith’s hands.

“Took you long enough,” he says dryly but Keith can hear the quiet smile in his voice.

The shower is fast on its way to becoming their confessional. Shiro turns him gently and soaps him down, just like he did the night before. There’s no mess to clean up this time, just a soft ritual that helps to start their day. It’s quiet moments like this that Keith hopes they will always have once they get back to their real lives, in between the demands of the Garrison on Shiro’s time and the ever state of flux of his own job with the hours he works. 

A few days ago, the thought of their real lives waiting for them back home would have filled him with a deep-seated anxiety.  He had no idea how they would fit together there but now, with his hands skimming over Shiro’s biceps and soap in his hair, he’s not sure how they couldn’t.

The night before, standing in the same spot, he’d brought up soulmates. It was a term the scientists running the experiment were reluctant to use too much. It wasn’t something they could quantify but on the other hand, the romance of the term was too inviting not to use. Keith wasn’t sure he put too much stock in it himself but a small part of him liked the idea. There had been a conversation with Lance about it, back in the early days when he was still in a state of panic about the whirlwind he’d found himself caught up in. He fretted out loud how anyone could possibly know and Lance had looked at him with pursed lips.

“Keith, Soulmates aren’t about fire and passion and all that,” Lance had said.  “Soulmates are when you find someone who gives you peace. When you’re with them, all your pieces come together and you’re just… calm. That’s what Allura is for me. When I’m with her, she grounds me.”

Keith thinks about that now.

When someone else’s heart beat can be the quiet in the noise of your mind, the peace that gives you the strength to keep fighting, or just to savour the quiet moments-  he feels that with Shiro. All of it.  The fire between them when they touch, the comfort that exists when the flames temper. The snapping angry beast he kept so tightly reigned in was quiet, dozing in the corner of his mind.

And yeah, he’s calm and his insides are quiet and even when Shiro drops to his knees and pushes him back against the tiles of the shower wall with one wide hand splayed against his chest and he ends up barely being able to speak from the pleasure, it’s there - a harmony that sits heavy and secure in his bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at this point im not sure who has the bigger metallic hand kink, me or Keith *cough*  
> pllss come talk to me about this fic if you're enjoying it, i love getting messages :D


	25. could be the best of our lives

Keith is warm and solid at his back as he sits on the bungalow’s step, his toes digging into the sand. It’s late afternoon and the air has turned cool as the sun disappears behind the cloud cover. Wind whips up spray on the tips of the waves and in the distance, and a streak of lightning flickers as dark clouds roll and heave together in the sky.

Another storm that sets his teeth on edge.

He feels his husband scoot closer as Shiro bites back a complaint, Keith drapes his arms over Shiro’s shoulders and surrounds Shiro with his thighs. It makes Shiro chuckle through the tension even as Keith nuzzles into the side of his neck, nipping gently at his skin before turning it into a caress. Shiro tilts his head back, blocking out the encroaching storm and Keith’s lips wander higher, leaving a damp trail that makes him shiver in the cooling air.

“Want to go inside?” Keith says softly against his ear. One of his hands has started to massage Shiro’s shoulder with broad strokes of his thumb. He has such strong hands, Shiro can’t help but sigh as he works at some of the tension there.

“Soon,” Shiro murmurs.  “This is nice.”

Nice barely begins to describe it. These final few days of their honeymoon have been everything Shiro could ever hope for.

The rational part of his mind tells him it’s too early to be throwing the L word around but he’s starting to wonder if being rational is all it’s cracked up to be. There was nothing rational the night they had taken their relationship that step further, it was just waves of heat and pleasure and a connection that crackled between them like the lightning crackled over the ocean now.

Maybe the science has got it right.

There was no denying it. Whatever seed they planted on their wedding day was blossoming into something bright and beautiful. It’s still fragile, still with delicate edges but budding with wisps of colour he hopes will grow strong and deep until it’s anchored to the earth securely enough to withstand even the wildest weather.

There’s another boom and the rain starts, filtering down through the palms that surround the bungalow and the wind catches it and flicks it towards them. Shiro shudders but it’s mostly from the abrupt change of cool droplets on his skin as the golden sand between his toes turns dark and wet.

“Come on,” Keith gives his shoulder a final rub then climbs to his feet. The sudden absence of his warm leaves Shiro missing him, as though Keith was taking his heartbeat with him. Maybe he was.

He looks up and Keith is waiting for him on the top step, a hand outstretched and a lopsided smile on his lips. There’s so much warmth there, so much warmth in those indigo eyes that had Shiro wondering again about that momentous L word.  Was Keith thinking about it too?

He gives Keith a half grin back and takes his hand, enjoying the way Keith grips him without hesitation and pulls him up.  Keith doesn’t let go when he leads them inside the bungalow, or when he tugs Shiro straight to the bed and lays him down.  Keith doesn’t even let go when a close crack of thunder makes Shiro jump.  And he doesn’t let go as he coaxes Shiro open and fills him all over again.

“You’re going to kill me,” Shiro struggles to say, his breath short and choppy after his climax.

Keith huffs out a sound that might have been a laugh and places a gentle kiss onto Shiro’s shoulder before slipping out. Shiro can’t move, too fucked out and weak after Keith’s ministrations.  “If I don’t make it, you have to take care of Black. It’s the least you can do.”

This time it’s definitely a laugh and Keith crawls into the gap between Shiro’s side and his arm and nestles in. Shiro finds himself humming sleepily, ignoring the mess drying on his stomach.

“Don’t remarry though,” he adds as an afterthought because suddenly just the thought of Keith with someone else’s ring on his finger makes a little part of him twist with pain.

“That’s kind of selfish,” Keith replies but there’s nothing but a lazy kiss to go with the words. There’s no fire, no reprimand.  It makes it seem like Keith is okay with Shiro being selfish. Shiro’s not sure he should read too much into that. But he wants to.

“I guess I am when it comes to you,” Shiro muses in response and it’s almost a revelation. His hand runs over Keith’s hip but his thoughts snag. Keith shifts, crawling up his chest to seek out Shiro’s mouth and kiss him. Shiro can still taste the salt on his skin from his swim earlier in the day. 

“Nothing’s ever going to happen to you. I won’t let it,” Keith says quietly and a light shiver runs down Shiro’s spine at the tempered steel in Keith’s voice. It’s hard to doubt it, Keith says it with such confidence there’s no room for argument so Shiro doesn’t bother. 

He folds his arms around Keith, enveloping Keith’s smaller frame against his chest and burying his face against the mop of his husband’s dark hair.

It’s much later when Keith is sprawled on his back, the paperback novel he’d had been nursing since their first day on the island in his hands above his head, that Shiro realises his shoulder had started to ache.  

“Keith, do you have any of that pain relief left in your kit?”

“What?” Keith sits up, laying the book to the side and cocking his head. He looks concerned enough that Shiro regrets asking. “What’s wrong? Is it your arm?”

“Nothing serious,” he reassures him.  “Just a bit of an ache. Too much physical activity,” and he eyes Keith meaningfully.  He half expects Keith to blush or look conciliatory but he just looks smug instead.

“An ache, huh?”

Too late, Shiro realises Keith doesn’t know he’s talking about his shoulder.  He laughs and gives Keith a light nudge.  “My shoulder, not… that.”

Keith snickers and makes to slide off the bed but Shiro stops him.  “I’ll get it, just tell me where your kit is.”

“Bathroom,” Keith nods his head in it’s direction. “Under the sink.”

Shiro leans in to give him a quick kiss in thanks. 

It’s easy enough to find Keith’s small first aid kit, it’s red with a white cross on it and there’s plenty of what he needs tucked up inside it. It’s the box behind it that grabs his attention, a box he remembers seeing at the hotel on their wedding night.

He debates with himself for all of three seconds before he nudges the lid open and pokes inside.  Whatever he’d been expecting, the splash of soft pink fuzz nestled amongst the supplies of condoms and lube certainly wasn’t it.

He laughs quietly to himself as he reads the note from Lance that goes with it. They don’t need the foil but he pockets the small tubes and picks up the fuzzy handcuffs and tucks them behind his back.  He hadn’t really got any hints of Keith wanting to try new things in the bedroom, they were still learning their way around each other there, but then, so far, Keith hadn’t yet let Shiro in – it was the one hurdle they’d yet to cross, although Shiro wasn’t overly concerned if they never crossed it. Everything was so good the way it was…

Although, maybe it could be better.

He emerges from the bathroom with lips that are still twitching and he leans casually against the door jam.  He waits until Keith looks up and then as Keith’s eyes narrow suspiciously.

“What are you smirking at?” Keith finally asks, his tattered paperback forgotten in his lap.

Shiro gives up trying to keep the laughter contained. He twirls his prize on one finger and Keith’s eyes go wide.

“Something you want to tell me, Keith?”

“Oh god,” Keith groans dramatically. He reaches for a pillow and buries his face against the soft cushioning and all Shiro can hear is muffled swearing and vague threats against Lance’s wellbeing.

He’s still laughing when he pins Keith to the mattress under him and wrenches the pillow away.  Keith’s arms fly up to cover his face instead. Shiro notes how pink the tips of Keith’s ears are and thinks it’s probably the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“You know, I feel like I have to tell you that I’d be up to trying everything at least once. Maybe I should give Lance a call, congratulate him on his foresight-“

“Don’t you dare!”

“He’s been a very good friend, really. Looking out for us like this-“

“Stop,” Keith begs and Shiro laughs again.

“Is that something we’re going to have to talk about in the video logs? We’re kind of behind on them-”

“Oh hell, no. Can’t we just say it’s a success and be done with it. I don’t want to have to be dealing with Lotor for the next however many years-“

“A success huh?” Shiro rolls off and onto his side against Keith on the bed, propping his head up on his human hand.  His shoulder is still a little sore from the tech, nothing to bother him too much, just enough to be uncomfortable. He notes the way Keith’s eyes flick over it and he gives him a subtle shake of the head to reign him in.  “Does this mean you’re going to hang around for stage two when we get back to real life?”

Keith doesn’t answer straight away, he sits up and moves off the bed to rummage around in the bedside table’s top draw.  Shiro leans over to peer over his shoulder and there’s a smattering of small pieces of paper, a tattered map, some brochures and a dried flower amongst a few other things. It startles him to realise the stash of seemingly random items in the draw seem to be souvenirs of their trip.  He even spies a random, lonely chopstick before Keith pushes the draw shut and rolls over to face him again, something clutched in his hand Shiro can’t see.

Keith eyes him warily. “What?”

“Are those all from our trip?” Shiro asks. His voice sounds strange in his ears. Probably from the lump sitting at the base of his throat. Keith looks a little sheepish and he shrugs, one lift of the shoulder even as he avoids Shiro’s gaze.

“Uh, yeah. I wanted to keep them. To remember.”

To remember. To remember their honeymoon because he wasn’t planning on hanging around? To remember the first days of their marriage because he was? Shiro can’t seem to think straight past the idea that Keith is sentimental enough to hoard a stash of ticket stubs and dried flowers and he had no idea. He remembers the flower now, it was from outside the temple on the second day of their honeymoon and he’d picked it up from the ground before it could be trampled.  A beautiful, perfect bloom that had drifted down and straight into his path. 

There was some kind of symmetry there but Shiro couldn’t articulate it.  Not when Keith turns to him and takes his human arm and lays it against his lap. Shiro watches as Keith ties on a slim plaited leather bracelet, sealing it around his wrist with a faint click of a silver clasp.  Then he takes out a second one and does the same on his own wrist.

“Because matching wedding rings aren’t enough?” Shiro manages to finally tease. He keeps his tone light despite the roll of emotion that seems to be trying to escape through pricks behind his eyes.

Keith lets his mouth fall into a grin and he shrugs slightly. “I put that ring on your finger not knowing who you were and putting a whole lot of trust in the science and the process.  But now…” he shrugs again.  “Now I know you.”

“Guess this means you like me?”

Keith looks up at him from under his brows and gives him a smile that takes Shiro’s breath away.  “Guess it does.”


	26. bloom just for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …I sat down to write one thing and then… this happened…. Also, Bloom by Troye Sivan is the perfect Keith POV song for this chapter if you're interested >.>

The restaurant they find for their last sunset on the island is grand and incredibly upmarket in comparison to the usual haunts Keith and Shiro had previously explored together. It’s not particularly Keith’s scene, he feels a little uncomfortable as they walk through the glimmering high fashion interior adorned with elegant furnishings, quiet music and an abundance of fresh flowers.  He catches the scent of something that might be roses on the air, and it feels out of place in such a tropical setting.

The restaurant shell opens up from an intimate setting into a wide expanse that lines the edge of a cliff. To one side, a sleek bar lined in blue neon graces the corner of the deck and on the other, small private tables wait for fine diners.  That’s not what captures his attention though.

It had been touted as an architectural icon of the region in Keith’s travel brochures and he could understand why.  Stretching out before them is an incredible glass deck that reaches out over the edge of the rockface and into open sky. As they walk to the edge he gets the disconcerting feeling that they’re walking on air and when he looks down, he can see the waves smashing against the rocks a hundred meters below.

“Okay, that’s weird,” he hears Shiro say and beside him, Shiro’s step falters.

He appreciates why when his adrenaline spikes and it takes him a brief moment for his mind to adjust to the forced belief that the ground is solid under his feet.  He tells himself to take another step, that the glass deck is secure, despite the wide gap between him and the water below.

It’s a good thing he’s not afraid of heights.

Shiro reaches the balcony first and they lean against it together, the lines of their bodies pressed warmly against each other.  They stare out over the endless ocean where the curve of the earth shows in the distance. It’s rapidly approaching dusk, Keith’s favourite part of the day and they spend a few minutes watching the way the sun dips and the sky turns burnished gold before falling into streaks of pink and purple. 

“Feel like something to drink?” Shiro asks after a while. They’d both been lost in their own thoughts and it takes a second for Keith to come back to the present. 

“Yeah, that sounds good.”  Keith moves to push away from the railing but Shiro stops him.

“You wait here, I’ll get it,” he says.

“Okay.”

Shiro leaves him to wait by the balcony edge, brushing a kiss over his temple before he heads over to the bar.  It’s a fresh experience for Keith to be treated with such deference. He’s used to just doing his own thing, seeing to his own needs – to have something as simple as Shiro ordering a drink for him touches him way down inside. Shiro was considerate and Keith found himself returning the consideration by trying to anticipate Shiro’s needs too.  It made the words that sat heavy on his heart a bit easier to bear when he was able to show Shiro how he felt with small touches or acts of kindness

He wonders if they would always be this kind to each other or would their first fight make everything turn bitter and a little bit damaged.

Keith turns his back on the sunset and lays his gaze on the sight his husband makes. It might be a fancy restaurant well out of Keith’s usual range but holy hell, it was so worth it to see Shiro so put together like he had been on their wedding day in that delectable tailored suit. He admires the curve of Shiro’s ass as he leans slightly against the bar, talking to the barman and pointing at one of the rows of bottles of liquor behind him.  Those pants hugged him in all the right places and Shiro filled them in all the right ways. And then there was the soft blue dress shirt he wore, probably a size too small to be decent but that showed off the firm lines of his muscles in all their glory.  Keith doesn’t hesitate to run his gaze over him, following his broad shoulders as they taper down to a slim waist.

He made Keith’s blood heat just looking at him, but it was the way he turned and flashed Keith a smile that told Keith Shiro knew exactly what he was doing that made his heart swell and fall.  It felt like he was always falling these days. Falling that little bit deeper into love with his husband.

Shiro turns and leans back against the bar, one eyebrow raised questioningly and Keith thinks he should feel bad at being caught so openly admiring his husband’s assets but he just lets his eyes heat and the smile spread over his lips and he settles finally on his decision.

It was going to be tonight.  Tonight, he wanted Shiro inside him. 

The drinks get handed over to Shiro and then he’s walking back to join Keith at the railing. It’s wide enough to set their glasses down, and Keith eyes his drink speculatively.  It’s another kind of cocktail, full of mint and lime and the alcohol hits him with a warm flush as soon as he takes a sip.  Shiro’s watching him with an expectant smile.

“Whoa,” Keith laughs.  “That’s… that’s got a kick. Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Doesn’t seem like I’ll have to try too hard judging by that,” Shiro replies and takes a sip of his own. He blinks and exhales roughly. “Oh. Okay, I see what you mean.”

“What did you order?”

“It’s the resorts speciality cocktail.  Mint, pineapple, lime, vodka – something else I couldn’t pronounce, it sounded good on paper.”

“Hmm,” Keith shrugs. “Oh well, not like either of us are driving anywhere tonight. Or flying, or…” he squints at his drink.

“Speak for yourself,” Shiro tosses out.  He turns away from the balcony with his drink in hand and heads over to the table that’s been assigned to them.  A good idea, really, especially if these drinks are going to knock them for six but Keith feels a little guilty they aren’t enjoying the view like they should be. “You always send me flying, baby.”

Keith half snorts, half laughs at that.  Shiro waggles his eyebrows and leers suggestively at him as he follows. “Was that supposed to be a pick-up line? That was terrible.”

Although, the beautiful little thrill that ran through him whenever Shiro calls him _baby,_ isn’t. So far, he hasn’t been able to return the endearment.  He’s not sure he’ll be able to stop when he starts.

They watch the sky turn from streaks of pink and purple into dark blue then into black as their share a meal.  They order everything that takes their fancy because why the hell not, they’re not footing the bill for it, and eat hardly any.  Keith is too punch drunk on being in love with the man sitting across from him and they order so many cocktails he’s not sure how they’ll make it back to the bungalow.

Through it all, his plan ticks over silently in his mind and it’s a good thing the cocktails are potent because his nerves are running wild.

“God, you look beautiful against that backdrop,” Shiro says once their plates have been cleared away and an elaborate dessert neither of them plan on touching sits between them. Shiro has his head propped up in his human hand and his eyes look dreamy.

Keith can’t resist glancing behind him but he sees nothing but the inky black of the sky.  “What?”

Shiro reaches for his hand, sliding his metal fingers across the tablecloth.  Keith reaches for him and links their fingers without hesitation. It’s a natural reflex now, as natural as breathing and sometimes Keith wonders how he ever went so long without it.

“All those stars and you. It looks like you’re made of starlight, like you’re not from here and you should be chasing comets.”

Keith waits for the embarrassed flush on his cheeks but strangely, it doesn’t come. He squeezes Shiro’s hand.  He squeezes it harder than he would if it was Shiro’s human hand, he’s learned that in this week they’ve spent together.  He squeezes it hard enough that his touch translates through the tech and into Shiro’s mind.  Shiro’s lips curve and he tugs, bringing their clasped hands close enough for him to lift.  He places a warm kiss on the back of Keith’s palm and his lips are wet from his drink.  It sends a shiver through Keith’s body even has he feels himself get hard.

He hasn’t told Shiro what he wants yet.  But he will.  As soon as they get back to their small slice of paradise.

“Not without you,” he hears himself say and he’s not sure where that comes from but it makes Shiro smile. Then he thinks about those three little words burrowing into the walls of his heart.  “I’d cross the universe for you.”

Something changes in Shiro’s eyes and he leans over, snagging a lingering kiss against Keith’s mouth.  It’s that same warm and crackle between them, even through the haze of the alcohol in his system, still that dizzying sensation that he’s right where he needs to be. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Shiro murmurs the words against his lips.  They pay the bill and leave a hefty tip then they climb to their feet, trying to appear more sober than they are.  Keith curls his arm around Shiro’s waist for support and they weave through the busy restaurant.  They bump into a pot plant at one point that has Keith half in hysterics and Shiro apologizing to the waitress with the pained look on her face and it distantly registers that they should be more embarrassed than they are for making a scene before he remembers that it’s their last night and they wouldn’t be coming back here again.

Not anytime soon anyway.  He tries not to think about recreating this evening on their first, fifth or tenth wedding anniversary and fails and his step falters as they reach the lobby and request transport back to their bungalow. 

He leans in to Shiro as they wait.

“You okay?” Shiro asks. His hand finds the small of Keith’s back again.

“Yeah,” Keith tries to chuckle but it’s a little hollow. “Starting to sober up, I guess.”

“Don’t puke on my shoes, okay.”

Keith snorts and elbows Shiro lightly and his husband laughs before drawing him back close against him.  “I’m not that drunk, Jesus.”

“I think I can safely say that I have definitely drunk more in this past week than I have in the last five years,” Shiro muses.  They stare down the driveway of the restaurant, past the glow of the entrance lights and into the darkness waiting for the taxi to arrive to collect them.  It’s quiet out here, nothing but the ocean’s roar in the distance and the buzz and croak of the night creatures.  It does make Keith sober up.   

“Me too,” Keith answers.  “Always have to be ready at a moments notice at home. It’s been nice to let go for once.”

“Are you always working?”

Keith isn’t sure if he’s imagining the slight hesitation in Shiro’s question. He hopes the tone of apprehension isn’t real though.

“Um. Most days.  If I’m not rostered on, I’m on call a lot. Sometimes I don’t end up seeing my apartment for days.”

Shiro doesn’t answer but Keith gets the impression that he isn’t particularly thrilled by that response. He shifts his gaze to cast a quick glance over his husband’s face but he’s still staring into the darkness. There’s a faint tightness to his jaw though. A week ago, Keith might have missed that but after seeing Shiro fall apart under him so many times in the past few days, Keith had become well attuned to Shiro’s expressions.

He’s not entirely sure what to make of that.

“I don’t have to be though,” he says after a moment.  He feels oddly like he needs to justify himself, which is weird because he doesn’t, Shiro knows he works long hours. It’s a strange feeling, and despite the warmth in his veins, something at the back of his neck pricks awake and rakes it’s claws through his gut. 

Shiro doesn’t get a chance to answer and Keith doesn’t get a chance to dwell before headlights appear and then they’re climbing into the taxi. They sit in the backseat again and Shiro pulls him close, tucked against each other like they were only a few nights ago when everything changed.

They’d been heading back to their bungalow to have sex then too. It was nice to know they were predictable if nothing else.  or some reason, Keith finds that thought ridiculously funny and he snickers in the darkness of the taxi’s cabin.  Shiro’s hot breath is against his ear when he responds.

“Something funny?”

“No,” Keith murmurs, turning his face enough to plant a quick kiss at the corner of Shiro’s mouth.  “Just thinking about the last time we were here.”

“Hmm,” Shiro lowers his voice until even Keith has to strain to hear it over the taxi’s engine.  The driver hasn’t said a word, staring straight ahead and that suits Keith just fine.  “Are you going to open me up like last time?”

Keith’s body responds instantly at the memory.  Shiro had been utterly beautiful in his surrender but he’d also gotten Keith’s surrender in the polished silver of the bathroom mirror too.  He aches at the thought and his breath stutters in his chest enough that he has to suck in air through his teeth.  It’s tempting, tempting as hell to lay Shiro down again but there’s been something else he’s been craving. Tonight, he wanted Shiro to lay him down and work him open.

“Maybe,” he says softly and his voice cracks as the word falls out. 

The only sign Shiro gives him that he heard was the tightening of his hand against Keith’s hip.

 

* * *

 

Shiro’s pretty sure he never wants this night to end.  It’s their last one before they have to go back to reality, back to their jobs, their friends, their lives.

Not that he isn’t excited to start his life with Keith at his side, but he’s already trying to steel himself for the distance that’s going to rise up between them.

Keith’s long hours might become an issue. 

It’s selfish of him, he knows it. But he wants someone to share his life with, someone to come home to. Someone to spend lazy Sunday mornings in bed drinking coffee and sharing toast.

He used to think he just wanted someone but it’s changed now. He doesn’t want just someone.  He wants Keith.

He wants this man that fits to him so perfectly. Keith that glowed in the moonlight, that holds galaxies in his eyes. Keith who always seems so surprised whenever Shiro would do something for him, fold down the corner of the page of his paperback when he fell asleep in the hammock with the breeze caressing his face or ordering his favourite drink without having to ask. 

Keith who smiled at him bashfully from under his hair when he was half drunk and defenceless. 

Keith who helped tend to a young boy when he fell over on the uneven streets and cut his lip open.  They couldn’t speak a word of each other’s language but Keith had helped with kindness and patience just the same. The same Keith that was ready to get into a fist fight with the stall holder over the bartering game because he just couldn’t see the point of not naming the set price in the first place.

Keith was a kaleidoscope of emotion and they brimmed close to the surface enough that Shiro was starting to get the very real sense that these warm butterflies sitting in his chest were sitting in Keith’s too.

He wanted to be come home to Keith and sit with him after a long day. He wanted to listen to Keith tell him about his shift, then massage the tension out of his shoulders.  He wanted to lay Keith down in the middle of his bed and ride him until Keith was nonsensical with only Shiro’s name on his lips.

He wanted all these things but how do you build a life if the person you wanted to build it with was never there.

He tries to push away these musings as he takes a seat in the chair in their bungalow and kicks off his shoes. They had walked back through the resort and along the beach because he’d wanted to see the stars in this part of the world once more before they left and it had sobered them both up enough that now they were just warm and a little tired.  He lifts his artificial hand to smooth back his hair but quickly realises he’s not as sober as he thought when there’s too much force and he ends up whacking himself in the face.

“Shit,” he grunts. “Ow.”

“Are you okay?” Keith asks from the other side of the room.  Shiro can hear the laughter in his voice even from here and he frowns.

“Yeah, just-“ he rubs his jaw, with his human hand this time. “Not as sober as I thought. Fuck, that hurt.”

Keith crosses to his side on bare feet, his belt undone and his shirt untucked from his belt.  He looks delectably dishevelled but still too amused for Shiro’s liking.  Actually, Keith looks like he’s trying not to lose it and his lips twitch even as he comes close.

Shiro realises he can use this to his advantage… If he can get Keith to stop laughing.

“I need a medic,” he says it seriously, even though the pain has already faded enough that he can’t feel anything through the buzz.

“Oh,” and the laughter in Keith’s voice is unmistakable now.  “Lucky I just happen to know a thing or two about first aid. I did a course and everything.”

That makes a laugh escape Shiro’s chest but he quickly works to stifle it.  “Maybe you can take a look then?”

Keith takes another step closer, then lifts a knee and slides easily onto Shiro’s lap. His brows are bunched and he trails the pads of two fingers gently down the side of Shiro’s face.  His breath catches under the look in Keith’s eyes. In the blink of an eye, his gaze goes from teasing to heated and Shiro’s heartrate starts to speed up.

“Hmm, I can’t see any swelling. No contusions. No abrasions.”

Shiro has to slow blink at the way Keith’s voice turns husky. God, he loves that voice.  He’s powerless not to slide his hands up Keith’s thighs to lightly grasp his hips.

“Mmm, maybe you should look closer,” he murmurs and then Keith is leaning into kiss him and it takes everything Shiro has not to sigh happily. Keith’s lips are sweet, his breath like mint from their drinks earlier and they slide over his with a slow, dreamlike quality.  It’s enough to make him dizzy and it’s a good thing they’re already sitting down. Shiro’s not sure he can control any part of his body at this stage.

Keith’s lips move away from his mouth, peppering along his jawline and his head tilts to give Keith better access to the softer skin of his neck. He shudders a little when he feels Keith’s breath warm against his ear.

“I hope you don’t do this to all your patients,” he muses after another slow and lazy kiss. He loves the way Keith kisses him. He can alternate from fierce and hungry as though he wants to climb into Shiro’s skin, to moments like now that are so tender and soft and Shiro almost believes he loves him.

“Only the cute ones,” Keith responds and Shiro’s eyes snap open suspiciously.

Keith leans back enough that Shiro can see the flat look on his face. Keith raises an eyebrow.  “Really?”

Shiro huffs then his hands tighten their grip on Keith’s hips. He tugs once, fully intending to bring Keith further against him, to rock them together and deepen the kiss but Keith holds back.  Shiro’s thoughts stumble over each other in confusion.

“Keith?”

When he captures Keith’s eyes, he’s caught out by the look of indecision there. It’s a direct change from their earlier teasing and… let’s face it, flirting.  The warm buzz from their dinner seems to be long gone and there’s a sharp twist to Keith’s lips that has him releasing Keith’s hip to capture the nape of his neck instead. He keeps the touch light, testing if he can draw Keith in but Keith resists that too.

And then Keith is chewing on the inside of his cheek and Shiro gets the distinct impression that Keith is working up to something.

“Our first time, you... you said you were flexible,” Keith eventually says.  He’s looking down, staring at the centre of Shiro’s chest.

“Yeah?” Shiro answers after a long moment. It takes him a little while to catch on and then the breath falls out of him. 

Oh.  _Oh._

He has to hold back the hope Keith is asking what he thinks he’s asking. He waits a few beats longer, noting the way Keith’s brows furrow and he opens his mouth as though to speak only to snap it shut again.  Shiro decides to take pity on the both of them.

He pulls Keith in close again, until they are chest to chest and his lips are against Keith’s ear. “Do you want me to fuck you, Keith?”

“Jesus. Fuck,” Keith jerks back and hisses through his teeth. Shiro winces inwardly. Maybe he should have tried for a bit more romance, he’s married to this man after all, this was his husband, not some kind of cheap hook up. _Fuck, Shirogane.  Nice going._

“Say that again-“

Shiro’s brain stutters like an old black and white movie missing frames, then it roars back into glorious technicolour because…Yeah.  Yeah, Keith is into this.

“Do you want me to fuck you-” he leans in closer, lowering his voice and tacks on, _“baby.”_

There’s a few long moments of Keith’s heavy breathing, like he’s struggling for breath. It hurts but Shiro keeps himself in check, rubbing Keith’s back through the material of his shirt lovingly as he waits for Keith to give him an answer. He’s aching and hot and he can already feel a dampness in his pants.  He’s desperate to get them off, to get both himself and his delectable husband naked as the day they were born because god knows he’s been desperate to get between Keith’s thighs in a way he’d never let himself think too hard about.

He wants to come home to Keith at the end of a long day… and he wants to bend him over the mattress and fuck him senseless too.

He’s almost sure Keith’s changed his mind and he tells himself that’s okay by the time Keith finally pulls himself back far enough for their eyes to meet.  He tries not to let his eagerness show too much in his eyes and it’s not a surprise to him to see something that looks a lot like wariness in Keith’s.  He’s not stupid, he picked up fairly early on that sex and relationships meant something different to Keith than it did to him.  He was okay with the occasional semi-anonymous hook up, a quick hand job in the dark of a club or falling into bed with someone he never intended to see again. His youth had been well spent, it was just the last few years things had changed. 

It was different for Keith.

“Whatever you want, Keith,” he finally says. He tries to infuse his words with a softness to chase away the hesitation in Keith’s eyes and it almost works.

“I want you inside me,” Keith says honestly. “I’ve wanted it for a while.”

Shiro has to take a deep breath to calm himself.  It doesn’t work.

“Have you ever-“ Shiro’s voice cracks. He makes a vague gesture with one hand that Keith can’t actually see.  He can’t seem to articulate what he needs to. “-Before?”

“Bottomed?” and the way Keith says it, one eyebrow raised, his tone dry, makes Shiro almost chuckle. Keith shakes his head. “I… I wanted it to mean something. That’s probably dumb-“

Shiro catches Keith’s face is his hands and shakes his head, a vehement denial even as his heart aches a little at the sweetness of it. This man, god. This beautiful man he’s married- if he hadn’t already been tumbling down that cliff, he would be falling right now.

“It’s not dumb, it’s beautiful,” Shiro says firmly and then he kisses him. 

He feels it then, he feels Keith’s total surrender under his touch and it’s different. It’s so different to their first time, to the times since because this is Keith giving himself over in the most complete of ways and with the knowledge that he’s safe with Shiro, that he can trust Shiro and god, oh god, Shiro nurses that tiny tendril of trust and swears internally that he will protect it with his life and every fibre of his being.

He drinks in the kiss, and there’s the faintest of shifts between them.  Keith has always been fire and strength even through softness, he’s always risen to the challenge with him but this total acquiescence is beautiful in its own right. Shiro’s hands wander over him, caressing and stroking long and slow until he slides them under Keith’s thighs and he’s standing them up. He takes a few steps to the bed, still kissing him with a softness that belies the raging need in body and he promises he’s going to make this something Keith won’t ever forget. 

He pauses at the edge of the bed and lowers Keith down, mindful that they’re both still dressed and he works on the buttons of Keith’s shirt gently, thankful to know that he really has sobered up now and that his fingers are working how they should.  It’s a slow process as they both strip but it helps to heighten the moment and by the time Shiro lays Keith down onto the bed, Keith’s entire body is trembling and he’s hard and leaking and the sight of him in the moonlight almost makes Shiro come right then.

“You’re beautiful.  God, Keith. You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

He props himself up on his metal elbow, ignoring the slight discomfort of where his still soft human skin meets the metal of his prosthesis. He’s hardly aware of what he’s saying, lowering his head to mouth along the lean lines of Keith’s collarbones even as his hands scrape ever so gently against Keith’s flank.

Keith is surprisingly passive under his hands and it reminds Shiro of the night he palmed him off in front of the mirror.  There had been trust there too. So much trust and something twigs in the back of his mind that this is what sex should really be about. More than just a perfunctory exercise, more than just a thrill of the flesh and a climax. This feels like so much more, as though the threads of his and Keith’s essence are merging and blending together and god it feels so good, so right, Shiro has to take a moment to gather himself.

He leans his forehead against the centre of Keith’s chest. Keith’s skin is already slick with sweat and it tastes like the ocean breeze. He wonders idly if it will still taste like that once they’re home and he hopes that it does. 

Shiro pauses for a moment, trying to gain control of his rioting emotions enough that he can truly make this good for his husband and not embarrass himself within the first few moments. There’s the thud of Keith’s heartbeat under his cheek and then Keith’s hand is carding through the locks of white on his head. It’s soothing enough that it helps Shiro breathe, soothing enough that he can raise his head to meet Keith’s eyes and he’s stunned by the raw emotion he sees there.

“Keith,” he croaks out and then he’s lifting up and surging against Keith, taking his mouth captive and chasing Keith’s tongue with his own.  It’s as though a damn has broken and he’s surrendering too. He’s surrendering to the fierce heat of his body, the aching need and then Keith is curling his limbs around him, his length hard and slippery against his own and Shiro’s pretty sure his entire world has shifted once again and now he’s just floating adrift on a sea of heat and sensation and something he’s really starting to believe might be love.

He’s barely aware of it happening.  He pulls away from Keith’s mouth long enough to flip him over and settle in against him.  Keith’s gasps turn into low moans when Shiro slips a thigh between Keith’s legs and almost on instinct, Keith is pushing back and grinding against him.  He starts to whisper Shiro’s name and Shiro takes a moment to press his lips against the warm space between Keith’s shoulders.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs as he pulls his lips away and slides further down Keith’s body, his wide hands travelling over his skin in long sweeping strokes. There’s a tremble in Keith’s thighs when Shiro guides Keith to his knees, murmuring soft words of encouragement all the while. Keith follows his guidance with barely a whimper and when he’s on his knees, ass up and face pushed into a pillow, Shiro can see the ferocious snap of Keith’s brows at the vulnerability of his position.

“Relax, baby,” he says softly.  “You’re so tense.  I’ve got you. I won’t let you hurt-“

And just like that, Keith breathes in and then out and all the tension leaks out of him until he’s soft and pliant under Shiro’s hands. “So good,” Shiro says then and he presses a kiss to Keith’s back as he kneels between his husband’s thighs. 

“Shiro,” Keith’s voice is slightly muffled by the pillow he has his face shoved into. There’s a shift of his hips and Shiro knows what he’s going to say before he hears the words.  “I need more.”

It’s all the invitation Shiro needs. He reaches for the lube, drizzling a generous amount over his metal fingers before curling them around Keith’s shaft and giving it a long slide then tug. He leans down to kiss the globes of Keith’s ass, barring his teeth ever so slightly to let them scrape against the soft flesh.  Keith lets out a whimper as he works him with his hand before he’s reaching down and battling Shiro’s hand away with a tortured growl.

Shiro smirks to himself, pleased that Keith isn’t completely passive in this exercise and then he’s parting Keith’s cheeks and letting his mouth and tongue explore him.  Keith jerks under his hands, moaning low and long into the pillow.  He half pulls away then pushes back and Shiro goes with him, until his tongue is replaced by one warm, wet finger seeking entrance and Keith stills.  Shiro murmurs soft words of encouragement. 

_You’re beautiful. You feel so good. You’re doing so well, baby._

Keith takes the intrusion with a gasp and Shiro savours the heat around him and leans forward enough to press another kiss against Keith’s skin.  He can feel Keith’s breathing stutter as he tries to adjust and Shiro experiences a brief flicker of worry.  Shiro’s large, and Keith might not be ready for this tonight but just as the thought forms, it skitters away when Keith rocks back and then Shiro’s buried in him up to his knuckle.

“It’s so good,” Keith gasps out and Shiro is mesmerized by the flush of his skin and the part of his lips. “More.”

Shiro tries to pause a moment longer but Keith’s eyes snap open and Shiro catches the heat there. It’s not just desire, it’s desperation too.  He wonders if Keith likes the burn, if that’s something for him that is almost as good as a climax.

He slips another finger in, then another and he realises Keith does. Keith is already rocking himself back on Shiro’s fingers, harsh movements as though he’s searching for something.  With every stroke, he comes alive, and he pushes himself up onto his elbows and then his back arches to beautifully Shiro’s sure he’s going to see stars. 

“Holy fuck,” he whispers.

“Shiro, come on,” it sounds a little bit like a whine and it’s like nothing he’s heard out of Keith’s mouth ever before.

He feels like he should take this slower but his own desperate need is starting to eat away at him.  He’s almost lightheaded from the rush of blood to his dick, he can feel Keith’s body clench and rock against his hand.  Keith shifts his position slightly and Shiro’s fingers catch against his most sensitive spot and this time it is a whine that has Keith demanding more and Shiro realises he’s utterly powerless not to give Keith what he wants.

He withdraws his fingers and Keith protests, dropping onto one shoulder so he can reach under him and take himself in hand.  Shiro doesn’t wait any longer, slathering himself up until he’s slick and he notches himself at Keith’s entrance.  He expects there to be resistance, he expects to go slow but as he feels the first grip of tight heat settle around him, Keith buries his face into the pillow and Shiro can see Keith’s hands scrambling on the sheets, going white with strength of his grip.

“Oh my god,” he’s moaning it, followed by a panting _“Shiro, Shiro, Shiro!”_

“So good, baby. Shit, you’re so good, so tight-“

Then he slips through and he’s buried to the hilt inside Keith and he’s not sure if he can take it because it’s like seeing the stars up close, beautiful and hot and dangerous enough to burn him alive and it’s all he can do to hold on, to grip Keith’s narrow hips in his wide hands and stroke into him.  His moans and cries echo Keith’s and he lets himself fall forward, curling his large body around Keith’s, his metal hand once again at the base of Keith’s throat, his nose in the sweaty strands of Keith’s hair.  He holds their bodies tightly and Keith turns his face enough to seek out a kiss but it’s rough and shaky. It takes him a moment to realise Keith is panting out something.  Not just Shiro’s name. Keith’s eyes are squeezed shut and he’s even now trying to push back on Shiro.

_“I’m yours. Yours, yours, yours-”_

Somehow that penetrates through the haze and it’s his heart that responds before his body. “Mine,” he echoes and then he’s moving, drawing his hips back and snapping forward to seek out the friction they both need. Keith lets out something that he swears is a blissful sigh and then he’s moving faster, working up to a pounding rhythm that has them racing towards the edge together, moving in sync and flying high enough Shiro forgets to be afraid. He grips Keith harder, his hands now sliding to Keith’s hips once again as he rises up over him.  He’s close, he’s so close and he knows by the sounds of Keith’s voice that he’s right there with him.

When they find it, Keith falls apart in his hands so beautifully it’s like trying to catch stardust.

“Keith,” he gasps and his knees shake and quiver. He has to blink the starbursts away from his eyes and when he looks down, his artificial hand is clenched so tightly on Keith’s hip he has to physically send it the mental command to release.  The bruise blooming there leaves him feeling sick.

“Keith, oh god, I’m sorry-“

“What?” Keith’s still shaky and as soon as Shiro releases him, he falls to the mattress with eyes shut and the flushed skin of his body rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath.  He’s still the most beautiful thing Shiro has ever seen.

“I hurt you,” Shiro chokes out and it takes him a moment to move. He’s disgusted by himself. Disgusted by the tech, disgusted enough he feels like ripping it off and flinging it into the ocean.

Keith’s cracks open an eyelid and the confusion in his gaze is confusing in itself.

“I hurt you,” Shiro says again.  He can’t seem to wipe the tremble from his limbs.

Keith frowns and pulls himself up.  Shiro can see his mind ticking over, as though he’s mentally checking himself over for injuries.  Shiro tries to brace himself but he’s still too horrified.  God, is he going to lose Keith now? Is this going to change the way Keith sees him? Just another kind of monster, half machine and uncontrollable? 

“No, you didn’t. It was incredible. _You_ were incredible.”

Shiro closes his eyes when Keith lays a warm hand against his check. It feels slightly tacky and the musky scent of sex follows it. Somehow that makes his chest twist.  He covers Keith’s hand with his own and gently lowers it and the look of confusion on Keith’s face is tempered by something close to hurt.

“Your hip,” Shiro finally manages to say and Keith looks down.  It’s an imprint that can’t be mistaken as anything other than a handprint, deeply red and already blooming with discolouration.  Keith’s eyes actually widen in surprise.  Surprise like he hadn’t noticed it. Like he hadn’t noticed the way Shiro gripped him so violently.

“Oh,” he says in surprise.  “Didn’t even feel it,” and he shrugs like it was nothing at all.

There’s a few long moments when Shiro can’t hear anything beyond the static in his ears.  Keith reaches over the side of the bed and plucks up one of their discarded shirts to help mop up the mess they’d made, all while Shiro feels frozen in place. 

It didn’t make sense.  He’d hurt him.  He’d hurt Keith and Keith didn’t seem to care.  That was the same hand he’d laid dangerously close to Keith’s throat, the hand he thought he could control even in the throes of passion.  But he couldn’t, hell, he couldn’t even get the buttons off his shirt without ripping them half off-

“Shiro,” Keith’s looking up at him in concern now. His voice goes low and steady, a far cry from the pitiful whine that was tumbling out of him moments earlier.  “Shiro, you didn’t hurt me, okay. I need you to understand that.”

Shiro doesn’t answer.  He can’t past the lump in his throat.  Keith sighs softly and takes his hand.  It’s his artificial one and he wants to snatch it away. “Shiro,” Keith says it again and this time he tugs.  Shiro resists for a beat and then he lets Keith guide him down onto the sheets and he needs to squeeze his eyes tightly shut to block out tears that threaten to prick behind his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says again and even to his own ears, his voice sounds weak and not short of pathetic.

“What for? Giving me the best sex of my life?”

Shiro frowns at that.  Keith sounds so genuinely unbothered, like he’s not secretly trying to turn tail and run on the inside.  It takes a few moments for his brain to catch up with reality.

“I’m still sorry.”

Keith sighs against his chest. He’s burrowed into Shiro’s side like a tick and Shiro can’t help his arms falling around him. His nostrils are filled with the scent of Keith’s hair, the soft whiff of salt mingled with something citrusy and so inherently Keith his heart aches.

“Shh,” Keith mumbles, already slipping into sleep.  “It’s fine.”

It’s on the tip of Shiro’s tongue to apologize again but he stays quiet instead.  Keith shuffles closer and sighs in what sounds a lot like contentment. Shiro mentally catalogues every little detail.

Just in case.


	27. a man on fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing but cheese... (it was a bad day, I needed this fluff. Plot comes next chapter)

Their last morning in the bungalow is easily their laziest, right down to the slow strokes of their tongues and languid wandering hands as they press against each other under the canopy of their bed.

Keith is going to miss this bed, the way the floaty material of the mosquito net cocoons them in a private space against the rest of the world. He’s going to miss the sounds of the ocean in the distance and the tang of salt on the breeze.

He pulls back from Shiro and halts a particularly delicious, lingering kiss. His husband looks delicious like this. His eyelids are heavy, lips pink and slick from their contact and with the lightest of stubble against his jaw. The morning light catches the ridges of his ab muscles as he lies back, illuminating the slim line of hair that sneaks under the sheets and guilding his skin in soft gold.

Shiro is gorgeous and Keith is half way drunk on the vision on him, but it’s not quite enough to temper the faint sense of frustration that’s creeping up Keith’s spine.

“Shiro,” he finally sighs. “Is this going to be a problem?”

Shiro only hums in answer, as though Keith’s words haven’t really registered.  Judging by the soft expression on his face, maybe they didn’t.

“I know what you’re doing,” Keith continues. “I can feel it. And it’s starting to piss me off.”

“What?” Shiro stills then. Keith endures a momentary flash of regret as the heavy bliss falls away from Shiro’s face and he blinks back to reality. His lips that were sweet and swollen from Keith’s kisses are now turned down at the corners. “What?” he says again.

“This,” Keith stresses and he curls his lean fingers around Shiro’s metallic wrist and pulls it up.

At first, he thought that maybe he had been imaging it. It only registered distantly in the way Shiro was only touching him with his human hand, the way Shiro kept his body partially angled slightly away or the way Shiro’s embrace has missing half, leaving a portion of Keith feeling cold in a way that had nothing to do with the early morning breeze. Keith had wondered if perhaps the tech was malfunctioning on him again but when Keith queried it, Shiro insisted it was operating as per normal.

But when they had started to roll together on the bed, trying to find a way to fit together, Keith couldn’t remember it being this awkward. Not even their very first time, or when the alcohol buzzing in their systems had been at play. When Keith tried to reach for him, Shiro would shift just enough to be unsteady and after the third fumbling attempt to curl himself closer around Shiro’s body, Keith couldn’t ignore the scratch at the back of his skull any longer.

Keith watches with a clenched jaw as the play of thoughts scatter past Shiro’s eyes now, how he briefly considers denying it before sighing and flitting his gaze away. Keith waits for him to speak and when he doesn’t, Keith’s frustration flares into annoyance.

“You said the tech wasn’t bothering you. Does it need another diagnostic?”

“No,” Shiro says firmly. “It’s not the tech. The arm is fine.”

The arm.

Shiro says it like it’s an entirely separate entity to the rest of him. The way he’s acting now makes Keith feel like he’s trying to separate them and he can’t figure out why. Keith can’t figure out why Shiro would find cause to think Keith didn’t want it touching him. He did, so much. He wanted it because it was a part of Shiro and it was just another part of his husband to love.

He lets out a little growl of frustration and tries once against to shuffle closer. At least this time, Shiro doesn’t move that side of him away but he still won’t use that hand to touch him. Keith misses it. He misses the way Shiro’s hands settled so firmly on his hips, the way his grip would tighten and take control of their pace until Keith could only go along with it in a dazed state of bliss and-

Oh.

He frowns even as his frustration shifts into petulant aggravation.

“Shiro, I told you last night you didn’t hurt me.”

Shiro’s jaw tenses and his reply sounds slightly bitter to Keith’s ears. When he closes his eyes and shifts his face away from Keith’s gaze, Keith knows what he’s about to say before his mouth can form the words.

“The bruises on your hips say otherwise.”

“Oh, please,” Keith scoffs. “I’ve probably had worse from sparring or just walking into a table half asleep. It’s nothing, Shiro,” Keith reaches out to tap his jaw and force him to turn his face back.

Shiro’s eyes open but his gaze is shuttered.  “Shiro,” he tries again. He aims for reassuring but there’s too much exasperation in his tone. “It’s not a big deal.”

There’s a few long beats where Keith can’t read the expression playing on Shiro’s face.  It’s disconcerting after the wild openness between them the previous few days. There’s a barrier there now, Shiro’s hiding something and Keith has to swallow at how it suddenly feels like a door has slammed shut in his face.

There’s a prick of unease at the back of his neck as he forces himself to wait for Shiro’s reply.  Keith wasn’t going to beg. He has some semblance of pride left. Maybe.

“It is to me,” Shiro says then. Keith doesn’t imagine the low agony in his voice. “I can’t trust this arm, I can’t trust myself.”

“ _I_ trust you.”

“But that’s not good enough-“

The heat simmering behind Keith’s breastbone erupts into fury.  He hisses between his teeth even as his brows come together angrily. He’s hurt, but not in the way Shiro thinks.

“ _The fuck it isn’t_ ,” Keith snaps and he thumps Shiro’s arm to the bed without even the tinge of remorse. He knows what the tech of Shiro’s arm is capable of. He knows it wouldn’t have hurt him but it served nicely to illustrate his annoyance because damn if his simmering irritation from earlier hasn’t turned into outright anger to mask the wound. “It’d better be enough or we’re going to have a problem.”

There’s so much red at the corners of his vision, so much tension in his frame that it takes him a moment to realise that Shiro is too pliant and passive under him.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Shiro responds quietly. There’s no answering fight in his tone and somehow Keith doesn’t know what to do with that. 

Shiro doesn’t try to move his bionic arm from under Keith’s grip, but he brings his human hand up to push back the hair that’s fallen over Keith’s face in a tender gesture that sends Keith’s emotions rioting between anger and surrender and fear all at once.

Something pricks behind his eyes and he squeezes them shut. He hears Shiro sigh. “Keith.”

The sound of his name on Shiro’s lips is striped with apology and it leaks a little against him. There’s a thud of his heart, then two and slowly, his anger dulls. It fades into something else he’d rather not face. He tries to tell himself it’s not fear he’s dressed up in a temper tantrum, that it’s not fear of Shiro using what happened the night before to pull away from him but even he struggles to believe it. 

It’s fear, alright.  Fear through and through.

Shiro’s hand brushes against his cheek, soft and contrite and Keith exhales roughly.

“Don’t you think I can handle myself?” Keith asks. He’s not sure if it’s the right question to be asking but his heart can’t seem to find a decent coherence right now. His fingers unhook from their clamp around Shiro’s wrist and he leans back. There’s something heavy and glassy in his stomach that makes him feel faintly sick.

“I know you can.”

“Then why are you trying to be a martyr about this?”

Shiro’s jaw works silently but he doesn’t answer. Keith’s fears masquerade as anger once again and he lets it. In this moment, it’s easier to hide behind his temper than to open his vulnerability up only to smash against a wall that hadn’t been there earlier.

“Shiro,” he says harshly. “If you’re looking for someone to coddle you about this, then they’ve matched you with the wrong guy.”

Before Shiro can answer, Keith swings his legs off, disengaging the contact between them as he moves to the edge of the bed. It’s probably cowardly, but that’s as far as he lets himself go. He’s not ashamed to admit he doesn’t want to leave Shiro’s orbit just yet.

For someone who always needed to regroup in private, now he can’t seem to want to make himself go more than a few metres away. Not like this. Not when he is starting to acknowledge a small fissure in the unpolished diamond that is their relationship.

He hears the rustle of the sheets and the bed dips behind him as Shiro sits up.

“I’m not down with inflicting pain on my partners, accidental or otherwise,” Shiro says then and his voice is quiet. Tired. Keith gets the feeling that Shiro has been battling with these thoughts all night.

Keith absently places a hand over the bruises. They don’t hurt, not really, they look uglier than they are and he knows it will only be a few days before they fade and it will be like they were never there at all.

But while they’re there, he likes them. Or he did.  When he’d seen them in the bathroom mirror earlier, a little thrill had gone through him. He liked the small marks of ownership on his body left by Shiro’s mouth or hands or-

He had pink patches of skin that looked suspiciously like hickies on his chest and there was stubble burn between his thighs, so how the fuck was this any different? He couldn’t see the difference between that and a few bruises and it frustrated him that Shiro could.

“I like it,” he says quietly then realises how that must sound when Shiro gives a small jerk in surprise.  “I’m not a masochist,” he hurries to add. “I don’t seek out pain or anything but I like that you are comfortable enough with me that you can… you know, lose control like that.”

“Keith-“

Keith shifts, and it distracts Shiro enough that he doesn’t follow through on that thought. Keith turns on the edge of the bed until he’s facing Shiro and he’s immensely glad when Shiro mirrors his pose.

He curls a hand at the back of Shiro’s neck and draws their heads together. There’s the faintest strain of resistance from Shiro, as though he’s still holding onto his misguided self-flagellation but Keith is stubborn and he squeezes just enough to signal to Shiro that he’s not going to let go. Under his hand, Shiro releases a sigh and all his resistance along with it. Their foreheads touch.

“I’m not scared of you,” Keith whispers. “So, don’t hold back. None of that shit, not with me.”

There’s a long beat and then Shiro’s metal hand finds it’s way back to the small of Keith’s back. Their forehead touch turns into a kiss and then both their arms are around each other once again. It feels like it should now.  Like it did before and it makes Shiro’s surrender taste just that little bit sweeter on his lips.

 

* * *

 

It’s a few hours later and they’d left it as late as they could before dragging themselves away from the bed and finally doing away with the denial their honeymoon is all but over. Their flight home creeps ever closer and they’ve got their suitcases open on the bed, packing away their gear. Keith’s chest is a weird mix of sadness to be leaving and rolling excitement to start their life together.

He reaches out to trace his hand over the logo that adorns one of Shiro’s neatly folded shirts. 

“You know, I almost joined the garrison once,” Keith says absently. 

“Yeah?” Shiro says, pausing in his packing and running his eye over Keith. Probably trying to mentally picture him in one of those horribly bright orange uniforms they made the cadets wear.

“Yeah,” Keith echoes, already moving away to gather the rest of his things.

He’d repurposed the box that Lance’s supplies had travelled in (strangely he had no idea where the fluffy handcuffs went and he wasn’t about to ask) and swept his stash of receipts, mattered maps and dried flowers into it.  He was going to label it their memory box, all the sweet little things that would no doubt look like rubbish to anyone but him. It’s comforting to know he can pick up each item and run his fingers over it to be transported right back to these moments. 

He’s about to shut the lid when Shiro hands him something and it turns out to be a pristine napkin with the logo of the restaurant they’d went to the night before embossed onto it. He stares at it in surprise for a moment before reaching out to take it from Shiro’s grasp.  The napkin is soft under his fingertips and he can’t resist tracing a finger over the restaurant’s name. He’d been too distracted to grab one for himself as they were leaving (okay, too drunk) and when he looks up, Shiro is smiling softly at him.

He curls his fist in the material of Shiro’s shirt and yanks him down to plant a firm kiss on his lips.

“Did I do good?” Shiro asks softly against his mouth.

Keith can’t even answer, unbelievably touched at the gesture. That Shiro had wanted to add to his – _their_ \- stash just made Keith’s secretly sentimental heart melt into his toes. 

It takes a supreme act of will not to blurt out to Shiro he loves him right there and then.

“So, what happened?” Shiro finally asks when Keith releases him and goes back to stacking his suitcase and Keith furrows his brow in confusion.

“What?”

“The garrison,” Shiro laughs.  “Why didn’t you end up going through with it?”

“Oh. Hmm. Apparently, I have issues with authority or something,” Keith says distractedly and Shiro pauses mid fold. Keith misses the twitch of his lips.

“No,” Shiro deadpans.  “You don’t say-”

Keith narrows his eyes at him before picking up a pillow and swinging it around to whack his husband. Shiro’s too quick for him and he catches it mid-flight and bats it to the floor. He’s grinning at Keith and then he’s teasing and Keith feels a rush of relief that Shiro has finally let his concerns from the night before go.

“I reckon I could have whipped you into shape,” Shiro adds, pausing to look Keith up and down once again. It’s more of an exaggerated leer and it makes Keith snort ungracefully. He snaps off a sloppy, mock salute.

“Yes, sir, no sir, whatever you need, sir,” he mocks and Shiro’s expression changes into something that’s half aroused, half horrified.

“Okay,” he huffs.  “Don’t… don’t do that again.”

“Oh?” Keith snickers. Shiro looks uncomfortable and something playful twigs at the back of his mind. “Whatever you say, _sir.”_

“Keith-“  the warning in Shiro’s tone is unmistakable. Keith hears it, and promptly disregards it.

“But Officer Shirogane, sir-“

Before Keith can blink, Shiro is all up in his personal space. His back is ramrod straight and the earlier teasing smile that had graced his lips now morphs into a hard, pressed line. Even his eyes spark, a ferocious demand in them that gives Keith his first glimpse of the very consummate garrison officer that lies underneath Shiro’s easy going veneer.

“If you were my cadet,” Shiro says, his voice low and faintly menacing.  It’s a voice designed to put cadets and new recruits in their place but it sends a lick of heat down Keith’s spine instead. “I’d put you on report for that insubordination.”

“Yeah?” Keith’s voice cracks slightly and he licks his lips. Shiro’s standing so close that Keith’s nose is virtually touching tip of his chin.  Standing like this, Shiro is huge and broad and he seems to take up all the air and space until Keith feels lightheaded from forgetting to breathe. There’s a pool of liquid heat sitting low in his gut and he’s suddenly very, very interested in exploring more of this recently discovered side to his husband.  “I bet you’re a real hardass to them, huh?”

Keith catches the faintest twitch on Shiro’s lips before the rumble falls out of his chest. Even his voice sounds lower. Deeper.  That oozing tone of _don’t-fucking-question-me_ that would normally have Keith bristling but for some reason now has him wanting to roll over and beg for more.

“Only the ones who don’t know when to stop talking when they should.”

“Holy shit,” Keith whispers. He has to blink at the sudden fire roaring through his veins. “That’s really hot. Do that again.”

“No.”

And just like that, Shiro melts back into the warm, jovial man Keith knows best and Keith is almost… _almost_ disappointed. He trails after Shiro as he makes his way to the other side of the room. 

“Okay, but how _do_ you do that? It’s like you’re a different person!”

Shiro looks amused at that. He pauses by the table, ready to pick up his passport before his hand stills in mid-air. He tilts his head and eyes Keith. “Please don’t tell me you want to role play?“

“I guess there must be all kinds of rules about fucking an officer-“

Keith isn’t sure how it happened (and they’re probably going to be late for their flight) but suddenly Shiro has him shoved up against the wall and they end up in a flurry of scrambling hands and hard kisses. He tries to tug on Shiro’s shirt, there’s too much material between them but then Shiro’s hand slips into his pants and it’s all he can do to remember his own name.

“Shiro, _fuck-_ “

He’s already half way there and it takes an embarrassingly small amount of time before Shiro has him spurting all over his hand and stomach and panting into the side of his neck as he clutches feebly at Shiro’s shoulders. Shit, he’s going to have to dig fresh clothes out of the stuff he’s already packed after that.

“Jesus,” he mutters, his breath choppy. He jerks slightly when Shiro tucks him back into his pants with a light pat and a very obvious smirk. Then Shiro leans in, hot breath skittering over his neck. 

“Oh, and by the way- It’s lieutenant.”


	28. don't know why we still hide what we've become

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, slight deviation here. In the TV show, the participants all know about the deadline when the end of the experiment rolls around - they have the option to continue the relationship (renew their vows) or just walk away and this is usually when the show finishes. BUT! in this AU, the experiment participants have no idea there's a set end point...  
> DUN DUN DUUNNNNNNNN (I hate myself)
> 
> ALSO! If anyone is keen, I have a tumblr dedicated to all the shenanigans of this AU. Expect lots of inspo, quotes, snippets etc. As always, feel free to message me, I literally LIVE to hear from you guys!  
> https://sheithmafsau.tumblr.com/

They’re flying through the night and the cabin is dimmed and cooled with recycled air. There’s not much to hear except for the low drone of the engines, most of the other passengers being asleep or engrossed in their own little world with headphones and their tiny screens. Shiro is feeling mellow and relaxed, and outside his window he can see the sparkle of distant city lights wink through the clouds. 

Keith snores softly against his shoulder as the plane coasts towards home, the fingers of one hand entwined against the harder metal of his prosthetic but even in sleep, Keith’s grip is firm and sure enough he can feel the contact through the tech. It’s a lovely kind of comfort that has Shiro sinking into the ease and security knowing he’s no longer alone in the world. This warmth and quiet strength tucked into his chest is a far cry from the anxiety that usually plagues him when he thinks about going back into the skies.

He’s almost enjoying it.

He leans back with a soft sigh and closes his eyes. It’s easy to let his mind wander in the quiet. The darkness of the cabin helps shuffle him along towards sleep but he doesn’t get there quite as easily as his husband seems to be able to. Instead, he lets his thoughts meander into places he’d normally not allow himself go and he finds himself wondering what it would be like to fly with Keith.

He hesitantly lets his mind form the soft image – an image of himself and Keith side by side at the controls of their own plane, taking a joyride through the clouds in the way others would take a road trip with the top down in some flashy convertible. He probes around the mental image gently, testing to explore where the familiar panic might be hiding, but the image fades before he finds it.

Maybe… Maybe he might be ready to take to the skies again.  One day.  Maybe if Keith is there to help him.

He knows without a doubt he’s not cured. No one could go through the kind of trauma he did and be healed overnight but he considers it a cautious step in the right direction. 

He dozes on and off through the flight but it’s a rough sleep and not particularly restorative. He could use the rest though, after lying awake the night before stressing about the bruises on Keith’s body only to be told in no uncertain terms by his husband he was worrying about nothing. Keith didn’t actually say the words _you’re an idiot_ out loud, but Shiro is pretty sure he must have thought it. He’s lucky Keith won’t let him buy into his own bullshit.

It’s not long after when Keith finally stirs, pulling his head away and straightening up with a low groan. Shiro releases his hand and discovers his palm is sweaty from the prolonged contact. Keith blinks, rolls his neck then lifts his arms up above his head to arch into a what looks to be a very satisfying stretch. The edge of his shirt rides up and Shiro has to swallow back a lump in his throat at the loveliness of him.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty,” Shiro says quietly and Keith grins at him sheepishly. “How do you do that? You’ve pretty much slept the whole way.”

Keith shrugs then, just the jerk of one shoulder against the back of his seat. He leans over to give Shiro’s bicep a poke. “Who knew these big beefy biceps could be double so well as a pillow?”

“Okay,” Shiro half laughs, half snorts. “I’m going to choose to take that as a compliment.”

“Oh, it was,” Keith grins, then he reaches out and catches Shiro’s face with his palm and turns in towards him. Shiro hums happily at the contact, especially when Keith leans in to bury his nose against the warm skin of Shiro’s neck. There’s a quick kiss against the skin there, then Keith pulls back.  “Are you okay?” he asks intently.

Shiro’s brows crumple in confusion. “What?”

“The flight,” Keith clarifies. “Sorry, I should have stayed awake-“

“Keith, no, it was fine. I’m fine. Just holding your hand seems to be enough.”  Shiro catches Keith’s hand and raises it to his lips.  “Thank you for your concern though.”

There’s a warm look between them, enough that Shiro feels slightly breathless at the sudden swell of emotion in his chest. God, if he had any doubts before that he was falling for Keith, they were long, long gone. He was already lying at the bottom of that cliff, dazed and blissed out and completely at this man’s mercy. He couldn’t want anything more.  

Not even the lure of space and starlight could compare to what he was feeling right now.

Keith glances away first and it’s probably a good thing because Shiro is suddenly unsure he would be able to control himself if they kissed again.

“What time is it?” Keith asks, his voice cracking ever so slightly the only sign he was as affected as Shiro.

It’s an effort for him to snap himself out of the daze but he leans back into his seat and shifts his gaze to the window. “No idea. Guess it would depend what country we’re flying over. Only about two hours until landing though, they’re bringing a meal around soon.”

There’s a distinct scent of something that might be bacon in the air and Keith sits up to look around.  Sure enough, the stewards are starting to move through the cabin with their cart and the lights gradually become brighter.

“Awesome, because I’m starving.”  Keith’s stomach rumbles to illustrate his point and Shiro laughs.

“Perfect timing you have there,” he comments dryly.

Keith flashes him a messy grin and shrugs. A moment later he turns to Shiro with a furrowed brow and cocks his head to the side.

“Hey, wait- doesn’t sleeping beauty get woken up by a proper kiss? I’ve been ripped off,” and he says it so sulkily Shiro can’t help but laugh. 

“Do you want a kiss?” Shiro teases and Keith answers silently by lifting his face with eyes closed and tapping his lips expectantly.  “So bossy,” Shiro murmurs right before he brushes his lips against Keith’s in a soft, teasing kiss.

When he pulls back, Keith looks infinitely more content, as though a kiss from Shiro was just what he needed to jump start his day. Shiro shouldn’t be surprised by how much he likes that but here he is.

“I’m not the hard ass drill sergeant dressed up as a mild-mannered flight instructor,” Keith says slyly. He fake coughs into his hand to hide his smirk and that makes Shiro laugh in earnest this time.

“Are you _still_ stewing about that?”

“God,” Keith huffs. He raises his hands as though he’s about to illustrate an elaborate thought but then he promptly drops them again. “I can’t work out if it turns me on or… I don’t know.”

“You and me both,” Shiro winces.  He tries valiantly to stop his thoughts from going down that path but it’s a struggle. 

Keith sends him a perplexed look and Shiro shrugs helplessly. “How am I supposed to look at the cadets ever again when _those_ kinds of images in my head?”

Keith starts to laugh. “Compartmentalize,” he states confidently. He taps his forehead with one finger.  “Don’t take that stuff home with you. Or to work in your case.” 

Shiro gazes at him curiously. “Is that what you have to do?”

Keith’s hands still where they were carding through his hair then Keith slowly lowers them to his lap.  His expression goes a little shuttered and a moment later, he averts his gaze.  “Yeah. You kind of have to.”

“It must be hard. Some of the stuff you see.”

It’s a weird echo of an earlier conversation, one Shiro wants to delve into a bit more but Keith only nods and suddenly the material adorning the armrest of his seat looks wildly fascinating. Shiro recognizes avoidance when he sees it and while he would like to know a lot more about Keith’s job, the things he sees and has to shut away, he doesn’t have any intention of pushing the subject right now.

Still, how must that affect him? Does he close his eyes at night and have them repeat in front of his eyes in full, glorious technicolour like his dreams of the crash used to do to him. His dreams had faded now, but occasionally they still reared up.  How does Keith find the internal fortitude to deal with it all day after day? Or is he just repressing it so hard until one day he snaps. 

There’s a faint flicker of concern at that last thought but before Shiro can reach out to catch it, Keith has moved onto a different subject.  Sort of.

“So, how does that work anyway?”

“How does what work?”

“You said you were a lieutenant, back when you were… you know-“ Keith’s expression goes pink and he looks pained enough Shiro has to hold back a very self-satisfied smirk at the memory. It would go down in his personal history as one of Shiro’s favourites – a startled but very eager Keith pinned between him and the wall, Shiro’s hand in his pants and the soft sounds he’d made as he fell apart in Shiro’s hand.  It was beautiful. “But you’re not enlisted anymore?” Keith continues.

“Ah. That. It’s… it’s a little complicated but I’m technically a private contractor to them but since I previously held rank, the cadets still know me as a ranked officer. And I wear a uniform to simplify things. The Garrison isn’t like a typical military branch, it had its beginnings as a private enterprise. The ranks they use don’t quite hold the same weight as the traditional fighting forces and their rules are a bit… different.”

“But the Garrison isn’t supposed to be a fighting force, is it?”

“No,” Shiro says slowly. “Not supposed to be, but we train as if we are. Just in case, I guess. But the garrison’s primary mission is astro-exploration.”

Keith turns to him and in the now bright light of the first-class cabin, his eyes are a deep indigo. “Are you expecting to find aliens out there?” he asks and the cadence of his voice is halfway between amusement and curiosity.

“Who knows,” Shiro shrugs. He pulls out his tray table as the stewardess approaches. “Maybe.”

 

* * *

 

Their flight lands in the early hours of the morning and the airport terminal is almost deserted save for a skeleton crew manning the booths in the customs hall.  They trudge through, handing over their passports silently and being quietly welcomed back to home soil before they make their way over to the baggage claim area. They mingle with the other passengers who stand around tiredly waiting for the belt to start moving and bring out their luggage.

Keith feels marginally refreshed after sleeping for most of the flight but Shiro looks all but exhausted. He’s not at all surprised when Shiro crowds close to his back and lazily drapes his arms over Keith’s shoulders with a yawn. 

Keith grunts slightly at the weight of him but he widens his stance to brace himself. Shiro’s heavy on a good day but when he’s half asleep and lazy, he’s might as well weigh a tonne but Keith stays upright easy enough.  It’s a point of pride for him he’s stronger than he looks. He has to be. The amount of times he’s had to lift or carry an unconscious patient twice his size are too many to note.

Keith curls his hands around his husband’s forearms as they wait and occasionally gives Shiro a nudge to keep him awake.

Once they have their luggage, they head through the open doors and into the arrivals hall. It hits him then that he’s not sure what happens next. Do they go back to Shiro’s place? His place? A hotel? The experiment had certain expectations and directions for them but he hadn’t given it too much thought beyond the honeymoon and he had no idea what to expect now.

He’s about to open his mouth to ask Shiro what he wants to do when he spies a familiar and undesired head of white hair in the group of people outside the doors waiting for them. He’s not alone.

“Great, look who it is,” Keith says dully. Shiro instantly turns.

“Should have realised they’d be waiting for us,” Shiro says.  “It’s not just Lotor either. They must be serious.”

There’s an older woman beside Lotor and she smiles brightly and waves as though they’re long lost friends. It takes Keith a moment to place her, then he recognizes her face from some of the earliest rounds of interviews he’d gone through during the experiments selection process. He’s trying to recall her name when she calls them over.  She looks overly bright and excited to see them and it’s a harsh contrast to Lotor who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Honerva,” Shiro greets her, and Keith isn’t surprised that he remembers her name or to see that he’s smiling cordially. Shiro was better at reading the social terrain than Keith was. He sighs to himself and tries to force down his dread.

“Shiro! Keith! Welcome home, it’s wonderful to see you both. I trust that your honeymoon went well? We didn’t receive many video logs so we weren’t sure if the two of you might need… assistance.”

Shiro looks slightly chagrined at Honerva’s lightly veiled admonishment. Keith thinks he should probably feel guilty they didn’t follow instructions but he doesn’t. The truth was that he’d be happy to quit the experiment right now – that is, escape the clutches of the so-called experts and scientists, to stop playing by Lotor’s rules. He’s got Shiro now. Shiro is the only thing he wanted, he doesn’t much care about anything else.

“We managed well enough on our own,” Shiro diplomatically answers.

Honerva eyes their joined hands speculatively. “Yes, I can see that.”

There’s a brief pause and then Honerva smiles again. It’s supposed to be warm but there’s something that’s too calculating behind her eyes to put them at ease. He’s seen that kind of forced smile before in Lotor and the resemblance between this woman and Lotor makes it fall into place.

“Well, if you’ll follow us, we’ll be taking you back to my headquarters to debrief before we embark on the next stage.”

Keith’s vision of a warm shower, Shiro’s naked body and clean towels fades from behind his eyes.

“We just got off the plane,” Keith mutters.

“Yes, I do apologise, I realise that this may seem excessive but it’s important we debrief you while your impressions from the honeymoon are still fresh in your minds. We can make sure you get some time to freshen up at headquarters though, the offices are fully equipped.”

The swap a glance between each other then hoist up their bags and follow Honerva and Lotor out to where a shiny black limo is waiting for them. It seems excessive to have a limo collect them, until Keith remembers the last time they were in one, Lotor was trying to interview them. He suspects the same thing is going to happen now.

Once the bags are stashed in the limo’s trunk, they’re directed to get in. Keith wants to snicker to himself when Lotor insists they get in first. What did he think they were going to do? High tail it as soon as they had the chance?

He tries to avoid Lotor’s narrowed gaze as he seriously contemplates it.

In the interior of the limo, he gropes for Shiro’s hand. Keith twines their fingers together and attempts to ignore the forced small talk that Honerva valiantly tries to pursue as the car pulls away from the airport and hurries along the freeway. Maybe If they both feign exhaustion, they might get a reprieve but as the limo pulls into the driveway of an elegantly renovated warehouse, he knows they’re not going to be so lucky.

They’re ushered inside and given a short amount of time to freshen up. With a clean shirt and his hair still damp, Lotor leads them silently to what looks like a wide interview room. There’s a couch, soft furnishings, a few potted plants in the corner and an abstract piece of art on the wall in an attempt to make the room feel homey, but there’s no mistaking it for what it is.

They take a seat on the couch and Shiro sneak him a look that seems to say here _we go again._ He looks tired, with dark patches under his eyes that Keith wants to smooth away with his lips. Hopefully this won’t take long then he can get Shiro somewhere quiet and force him to get some rest.

“You up for this?” Keith leans in to murmur softly. There are protective instincts flaring into overdrive inside him. He thinks back to their wedding day, the first time they’d stood together in front of Lotor and presented a united front.  If their bond was newly formed back then, it was as taut as steel after a week exclusively spent together.  There was no way he was going to let Lotor or Honerva try to weasel in through the gaps.

“I’m good,” Shiro responds quietly and this time, Shiro is the one reaching for his hand and giving him a squeeze.  Keith squeezes back. 

There’s a small coffee table in front of them and then on the other side are two armchairs, now filled with Lotor and Honerva as they slip quietly into the room and take their seats. Keith spots Lotor’s ever present tablet and he’s halfway amused to note that in Honerva’s presence, Lotor seems to have been demoted to glorified note taker because he hasn’t said a word the entire time. Keith would have snickered if not for the appraising way Honerva is watching him now.

Of all the scientists he’d encountered during the selection process, she was the one who unsettled him the most. The air in the room becomes heavy with expectation as Honerva watches them both carefully and Keith has to fight back the urge to fidget.  He ends up squeezing Shiro’s hand again instead.

Honerva was friendly enough on the outside, conventionally attractive in a very unassuming way with long hair wrapped in an elegant bun at the back of her head and one streak of hair pulled to one side as a fringe. She always smiled and she was kindly in the tones she used when she spoke but she was dangerous in a wholly different way.  More dangerous than an opponent brandishing a Glock in the middle of a fist fight - because Honerva knew exactly how to look right past his bluster and see into the core of him.

He hadn’t been scared of any of the other scientists and their probing questions – uncomfortable yes, but not scared. But Honerva made him feel like he should be.

She questions them about the honeymoon, catching up on what the video logs they’d neglected to send should have told them. There’s a brief rundown of activities, a mention of Shiro’s arm malfunction and then she queries if they’ve become intimate and Keith almost chokes.

Shiro glances sideways at him briefly before he answers with a simple _yes_ and Keith finds himself holding his breath. Honerva nods once and then moves onto another question and Keith finds himself letting the air out in an exhale. 

He didn’t care if it was common knowledge he and Shiro had taken their relationship to that level, he just didn’t want to spell it out in glorious, technicolour detail to them. It was bad enough everything else between them would be on display for these scientists, but their private moments belonged to them alone.

“Now, as you know, the experiment has certain guidelines in place,” Honerva starts to say and the warmth in her tone fades. A niggling force in the back of Keith’s mind forces him to pay attention and he unconsciously stiffens his spine.  “You’ve already been made aware of most of the guidelines and stipulations we have in place during your time going through the selection process-“

Shiro catches on faster than he does.

“Most?” he queries.  Honerva’s brows crease ever so slightly, annoyed at his interruption.

“Put simply, we can’t ignore the fact that not all of our matched couples will initially find success.”

Honerva then pauses long enough to fold her long, slim fingers together. Her eyes are in her lap and the way she takes a deep breath before she starts to speak again immediately sets an alarm bell ringing somewhere in the deep recesses of Keith’s mind. There’s a few beats of silence and Keith tries to catch Shiro’s eyes.  Where was she going with this?

“We have,” Shiro eventually says. His grip on Keith’s hand is tense and his jaw is clenched tight so Keith gives his hand a squeeze of silent reassurance.

“Yes, and it does appear that yours and Keith’s match is something outside the norm. However, it’s early days yet and there have been many couples who have started out strong only to falter weeks in. Some may start slow, only to find a lasting connection over time. Unfortunately, there are some where the connection never grows.”

“Okay,” Shiro says slowly. “But we know this. This was made clear when we started the experiment, when we volunteered for a match.”

“What was not made clear was the exit strategy in the event the match is a failure. Now, it is our hope that you will not need it as what you and Keith have formed appears to have a good foundation but should you require it, we, as the caretakers of this experiment and with our subjects best interests and emotional wellbeing at heart, have pre-emptively allowed official paperwork to be filed. This will allow for a smooth and easy exit from the marriage after a set amount of time and allow you to go your separate ways with a minimum of fuss.”

“How long?” Keith demands. He hears the question before he realises its coming from him.

“We will allow you eight weeks and at the end of eight weeks, you will both have a chance to recommit to your marriage, or to sign the papers and go your separate ways.”

Shiro holds up a hand. His grey eyes have turned stormy and it reflects the churning maelstrom in Keith’s stomach.

“Official paperwork?” Shiro says and it’s in a hard tone Keith hasn’t heard from him before. “Let’s just call it what it is. A divorce. You’re talking about a divorce, aren’t you?”

Something in Keith’s mind struggles to put the pieces together.  He resists it because he doesn’t want to look at the image it forms and all the implications it brings with it.

The ground that he’d thought was solid under his feet in the form of his match with Shiro, suddenly feels tenuous and delicate. Keith feels confused initially but it’s quickly replaced by anger when he realises they’ve been manipulated. 

Before Honerva can respond in detail, Keith exhales heavily _. “What the fuck?”_

She frowns a little, a slight flicker of her brow at the profanity and Keith has the urge to swear again because, seriously.

What the fuck?

“I apologise if this comes as a shock to you both but we knew that if our couples were aware of the eight week stipulation, it would hinder the connection you would build together. If you had been aware of the eight week deadline from the start, it wouldn’t have allowed you to be completely open to the experiment…. or each other.”

Keith is caught in a place of stilted rage. He’s furious at the manipulation, and he would like nothing more than to stand up and tell Honerva and Lotor and all the figures lurking in the background they can take their experiment and shove it up their ass before storming out, contracts be damned, but the voice in his mind that idly reminds him that this experiment gave him Shiro.  Shiro, who was everything Keith never realised he wanted and who he wasn’t going to give up without a fight.

His anger fades as the truth of her words fall into him. It makes him feel faintly ill to realise she’s right. If he’d known there was only eight weeks before he had the opportunity to walk out, would he have opened up and let down his guard with Shiro like he had? Would he have given himself over as easily knowing that Shiro could walk away as little as two months from now and there wouldn’t be a damn thing he could do about it?

No. Fuck, no. 

He would have kept those walls up, worn them like armour around his heart. And maybe… maybe after time, he’d open his walls a crack to let something else seep inside. 

As it stood, he was laid bare and exposed and he had delivered every part of him to Shiro on a platter… and now there was a fucking expiry date on his marriage.

There’s blood rushing in his ears and it takes him a few moments to tune back in.

“I realise this does come as a bit of a shock,” Honerva is saying. “But it’s up to you whether you stay or leave at the end of the eight weeks. Throughout the eight weeks though, you will have our full support. We will have regular check ins with you and the rest of the couples in the experiment and you will continue along the path we have laid out for you until it’s time to make your final decision.”

Keith kind of wants to seethe at that. There’s no decision to be made in his mind. But that doesn’t explain his raging disquiet at Honerva’s announcement. He can’t even bring himself to look at Shiro because he’s terrified he’ll see something like relief there.  

“Why do we need to bother with the eight weeks?” Keith snaps. 

He needs a way to expel the simmering anger under his skin so he ends up lunging to his feet and pacing to the window.  He stares out, only distantly noting the view outside of a sparkling blue harbour in the early morning sunlight as he tries to make sense of how his foundation was shifting under his feet.  In the reflection of the glass, Shiro’s head is bowed and he’s leaned forward to dangle his wrists against his knees. Keith can’t see the expression on his face behind his white forelock and his stomach churns again.

“As I said earlier, there have been many previous couples that have started strong only to falter a week or two in. Stage two of the experiment can be difficult. This is where the two of you will try to meld your different lifestyles together. It’s not always an easy task and relationships without a solid foundation will often struggle.”

“Are there any other surprises in stage two we need to know about?” Shiro asks quietly. Keith decides he’s been apart from Shiro long enough and casts a final gaze outside and striding back to the couch to take a seat at Shiro’s side. He passes Lotor on the way, and it’s almost a start to realise the other man was even in the room. He’d been silent the whole time.

Keith sinks back onto the couch but Shiro doesn’t move to look at him or touch him and he hesitates to do the same. Then Honerva starts talking again. 

“Only one you may find difficult. Stage two begins now, and it requires that you spend some time apart, without any contact between you before tomorrow when Keith, you will move into Shiro’s home as previously discussed and the two of you will start to make a life together.”

“Time apart?” Keith frowns. He’s surprised at just how resistant he is to the idea. “Why? We’ve been together twenty-four seven for the past week.”

“Exactly,” Honerva says as turns to address him directly.  “And this small, twenty-hour window apart will give you a chance to reflect and recover before you start the next stage together.”

Keith hadn’t thought much beyond the honeymoon but he certainly hadn’t expected that they would be separated so soon after touching down back on home soil. He doesn’t wait any longer and he reaches for Shiro’s hand, entwining their fingers and bringing their joined hand to rest in his lap. His eyes flick warily to Lotor and he has to fight down some primal urge to snarl at him as though Lotor is going to try to physically pry his hands away.

The expression on Lotor’s face is unreadable.

“This is an important part of the process, Keith,” Honerva says firmly, almost with a hint of reprimand as though she was the school principle and he was the student trying to act out.

“Fuck your process,” he mutters under his breath. He misses the flare of Honerva’s nostrils and Lotor’s sudden turn of his face away. “I don’t want to be separated.”

“Keith,” Shiro gently chides and hearing that from Shiro’s lips immediately causes Keith to bite back another retort.  Honerva’s gaze flickers between the both of them assessingly.

Fine, let her look. Keith eyeballs her for a beat before she surprises him by smiling. It’s not the same faux warm smile of earlier, this something he hasn’t seen before.

“We’ll give you a moment to say your goodbyes for the evening and your cars will be waiting for you out front to take you back to your respective homes,” she says as she stands and motions to Lotor to follow her.  Lotor doesn’t look at them as they leave.

Keith stares after them as the door clicks shut behind them. It feels a little like his axis has shifted.  The ground that had been solid just moments before now rolls beneath his feet.

He realises that Shiro has been quiet and a tendril of doubt reaches him and curls tauntingly around his heart. Shiro couldn’t be okay with this…. Could he?

He eyes Shiro intently as he leans back and lets out a rough exhale of breath. “Okay. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Which part?” Keith says and it shocks them both how bitter he sounds. “The expiry date or the enforced separation?”

“Expiry date?” Shiro repeats incredulously. “Baby, no. This doesn’t have to change anything. Not for us.”  He pulls Keith against him and Keith soaks up his warmth, surprised at how chilled to the bone he suddenly feels.  “I don’t need an exit clause and I’m pretty sure you don’t either. Am I wrong?”

“No,” Keith finally answers but his voice lacks conviction. He wonders if Shiro will feel the same in eight weeks. It’s a long time after all, a lot could happen. And what was it that Honerva had said? Some couples struggled melding lifestyles. He already knew there was a big fat strike against him with his shift work. Was that going to become an issue?

“Hey, at least they’re only keeping us apart for tonight,” Shiro says with forced confidence. “We’re both so jet lagged we’ll probably be dead to the world anyway.”

“Yeah, okay,” Keith sighs.  “I just… I don’t like these constant surprises,” he mumbles before Shiro leans in to steal the words off his lips. Shiro was right, they were both exhausted enough that some time apart might actually mean they get some decent rest because god knows when Shiro kisses him like that, sleep is the last thing on his mind.

He gives himself a few sweet moments to savour the feel of his husband’s mouth against his, the taste of his tongue and the way the muscles move under the material of his clothes as Shiro hauls him close enough to be in his lap. It shouldn’t be like this.  A week a go he didn’t even know this man’s name, wasn’t even aware he existed.  Now Keith’s not sure how he ever lived without him.  It was like seeing colour for the first time, he was petrified of going back to the dull greys.

He can feel Shiro indulging him in the kiss, drawing it out until Keith has had his full and he has to draw back for air. Their foreheads lean against each other and Keith doesn’t recognize this desperate, needy side of him.  His heart wants to cling to Shiro and shout _no, no, no!_ even as his head registers the tap on the door and the call that their cars are waiting for them.

Let them wait. 

“Baby,” Shiro whispers and Keith wants to melt into him. Shiro says it with such tenderness it makes him tremble.  “Just for a little while. We have the rest of our lives, remember?”

Shiro brushes his lips against Keith’s forehead and gently disengages from Keith enough to climb to his feet and it’s all Keith can do to hold himself in check. Maybe it’s the jetlag, or maybe he was more tired than he realises because he’s suddenly hit with a dizzying sensation that if he lets Shiro walk away now, he might not see him again.

He forces his panic down and tries to make himself smile but it comes out as some sort of grimace. He doesn’t want Shiro to see how upset he really is because it makes no sense. Shiro was right, it’s not long. Twenty-four hours.  He went twenty-five years without Shiro, he can surely last for a few hours more. 

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he says as he gets to his feet too.

“Tomorrow,” Shiro promises.  “Then nothing will separate us.”

Shiro slips out the door with one last smile over his shoulder and Keith releases a rush of breath when the door shuts behind him. He rubs absently at his chest, trying to dull the ache that’s appeared out of nowhere. 


	29. king of my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stage 2 - The next phase of the experiment kicks off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I love Lance in this AU so much. He's still the same goofball we know and adore but he's older and a lot more confident in himself. He LOVES his friends and his fiance SO MUCH and he's COMPLETELY and UTTERLY unapologetic about it.  
> 

The sunlight sparkles off the hood ornament of the limo as it pulls up outside the doorway where Keith is waiting. It’s almost midday, the interview with Honerva taking far longer than Keith had realised. 

The jetlag is definitely hitting him now, he’s irritated, tired and he’s already missing Shiro even though it’s been barely an hour since they’d had to go their separate ways. No doubt Shiro was already making his way back to his townhouse, back to his cat and his familiar bed. Hopefully he’s getting some sleep and-

Keith has to put the mental brakes on his thoughts before they run down a path he can’t entertain at this present time.

He’s about to climb into the car when he hears his name being called. When he looks up, it’s Lotor stepping out into the daylight from the recesses of the experiment headquarters. His hair looks even brighter in the sunlight, almost blinding him and his dark skin looks warm and rich. There’s a flicker of recognition that flits across Keith’s mind and it immediately makes him think of Allura. 

Both Allura and Lotor had the same kind of regal bearing, the same rich tones in their voice and the same cultured accents. He knew they hailed from a similar region but he can’t help wonder if there’s another connection there too.

“Keith, may I have a moment?”

Keith struggles to keep the surprise from showing on his face. Lotor hadn’t said two words to himself or Shiro, (or even Honerva now that Keith thinks about it) since they were collected from the airport but suddenly now he wants to talk. Keith tries to find a hint in Lotor’s expression but as it was earlier, it’s unreadable.

Keith eyes him suspiciously.

“Lotor,” he answers grudgingly after a moment. He’s still too annoyed by Honerva’s little bombshell to play nice.  “What do you want?”

There’s a slight hesitation as the expression on Lotor’s face shifts into something furtive. Keith gets the sense Lotor shouldn’t be out here with him and immediately his interest is piqued. 

“I wanted to give you this,” Lotor says. 

He slips a hand into the pocket of his slim fitting dress pants. That was another similarity Lotor had with Allura. They were always both dressed impeccably and gave off the sense that they both had money to burn. Keith was fairly sure they didn’t, but they certainly looked the part.

His musing is interrupted when Lotor withdraws his hand, now clasping something small and black and holds it out towards Keith palm up. It looks like a small storage key.

Keith reaches out gingerly to take it.

“What is it?”

“This is a copy of the itinerary they have planned for you for the rest of the experiment. I thought you might appreciate having an idea on what to expect.”

That causes Keith to blink in surprise. “Why are you giving me this? Won’t Honerva be pissed?”

“Let me deal with her,” Lotor answers and there’s a sharpness to his voice that makes Keith’s eyebrows shoot up under his hair. He pauses to look over Lotor assessingly then he slips the storage key into the pocket of his jeans and folds his arms.  His chin lifts in a gesture he knows Lotor will probably consider as a challenge.

“Are you going rogue, Lotor?”

Lotor’s eyes spark but he sets his shoulders and pins Keith with a challenging gaze all of his own.

“On your wedding day, you insisted on being there during Shiro’s interview despite the fact that the two of you had met only mere moments earlier. I may not be the scientist my mother is, but even then I could see what you and Shiro share is genuine. The meeting tonight has merely confirmed my suspicions.”

Keith’s brain stumbles.  Mother- oh. “Honerva is your mother?”

Lotor’s answer is a dull smile. “Indeed. Hence my participation in this experiment on a purely superficial level.”

Okay. Keith’s not great at interpreting the subtle nuances in Lotor’s voice but he sounds vaguely bitter. Holy shit, maybe Lotor _is_ going rogue.  Keith files that information away in the back of his mind.

“So, you want to help us?”

Lotor gives him a small smile, and Keith almost falls over at the realisation that this one is genuine. He’s never seen this smile from Lotor before but unlike Honerva, Lotor’s smile is almost… warm.

“I wish you both the best,” Lotor says quietly and then he’s turning on his heel and walking away before Keith can completely grasp the implications of having an ally like Lotor in their corner.

“Lotor, wait-”

Lotor pauses but he doesn’t quite turn around. Instead he glances over his shoulder and Keith holds up the key. 

“Thank you.”

Lotor gives him a small nod in answer.

 

* * *

 

It’s disconcerting to be back in his small apartment alone. 

Keith had arrived back an hour earlier.  He hadn’t really missed it.  He hadn’t really missed the narrow stairwell because the lift was continuously broken, causing him to wrestle with his suitcase against the stairs and the encroaching scuffed walls. He hadn’t missed the way the key needed constant coaxing just to turn in the lock of the front door, and he certainly hadn’t missed the shut up musty odour that greeted him when he finally managed to push said door open. It swings wide on a quiet whine and sunlight catches on the dust that floats through the air, rising up from surfaces long neglected.

His apartment was simple and dated, hard wood floors scuffed and scratched from a lifetime of wear and the kitchen looked like something that might have passed for fashionable back in the swinging sixties.  Only one burner on the stove works and the oven gave up the ghost years ago, neither being of any concern to Keith.  The only items that look to be in working order are the shiny plastic kettle next to a couple of small porcelain containers containing his life saving caffeine hits and a small fridge that manages to feel too big and glaringly modern for this small space.

His place was small, but it was cheap and close to the station and best of all, he didn’t have to share it with anyone. Sometimes he went for days without sleeping here, stopping home long enough to shower and change before heading out again. Often it was easier to just pass out on one of the spare vans crash couches but when he was home, the last thing he wanted was to deal with house mates and forced small talk.

It was all his, but he certainly wouldn’t be sad to leave it tomorrow.

He kicks the door shut behind him with one foot and drags his case past a threadbare couch and a plastic pot plant that Lance had brought over as a housewarming gift years ago, and into the one solitary bedroom before dumping it on the bed.  He’ll have to unpack his gear from the honeymoon and then pack again, but this time with all the things he planned to take with him to move to Shiro’s place. The real stuff of his life, his uniform, his riding leathers, maybe a favourite paperback or two.

How much should he really take? The insidious reminder that he may very well end up back here in eight weeks snakes through the forefront of his mind before he has a chance to kick it away.

He flips open his case and rummages around until he finds what he wants, the box full of memories and he places it lovingly onto the bedside table. It takes him a few moments to realise he’s put it on the side that would have been Shiro’s had he been here and he laughs to himself at his own ridiculousness. When did he turn into such a romantic? The Keith of a week ago wouldn’t recognised him now.

With his packing complete, he tries to nap but his mind won’t settle. The last time he lay in his bed, he was a single man with no idea what lay on the other side of tomorrow. Everything has changed but on his back and staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom, he had the weird disconnect that nothing had really changed at all.  Not here, not in the physical sense. The wedding and the honeymoon could very well have been a fever dream except for the weight of the wedding band on his finger, the bracelet around his wrist and the way his body aches in all the best possible ways from Shiro’s touch.

He lies back, one arm under a pillow bunched under his head and he splays his fingertips against the five small bruises on his hip. He couldn’t quite line them up, Shiro’s hands were so much broader than his but he tries anyway. There’s the faintest flare of pain when he presses against them, and it sends his mind hurtling into recollection and a heat curls in his gut just at the memory of Shiro moving against him. Just another small reminder the past week had been very much real.

Sleep proves elusive so instead he opts to shower and changes into a comfortable pair of sweatpants and his customary black t shirt. He wanders into the kitchen in search of something to eat but finds his cupboards pitifully bare. A normal person probably would have cleaned out anything perishable in anticipation of moving out but Keith’s pantry was always pretty empty.  He was hardly here often enough to sleep, let alone eat. What was the point of keeping it stocked.

The third growl of his stomach a short time later reminds him he hasn’t eaten since their meal on the plane so he hunts around for his phone, realising he hasn’t switched it on since hanging up on Ezor a few days ago. He half regrets it now, at least that he hadn’t kept his phone handy enough to snap a few more photos of their honeymoon to look back on now.  Shiro had used his phone for most of the happy snaps.

He dreads switching it on, expecting an influx of possible abuse from his half-sisters (wouldn’t be the first time), more missed calls from some random telemarketer or a flurry of incomprehensible and vaguely insulting messages from Lance. 

He’s half right.  When the phone boots up, there’s a handful of messages from Lance and a notice that his bike’s registration is due for renewal but nothing from Ezor and that fact alone leaves him with a vague sense of unease. It wasn’t like Ezor to just roll over, he half expected a few snarky messages at the least. It was strange that there seemed to be nothing from her but he chooses to count his blessings in that regard and shoots off a text to Lance to let him know he’s back on home soil knowing that Lance would most likely call the second he gets a chance.

Honerva specified time away from his husband, but she didn’t say anything about friends.

As predicted, Lance calls a few minutes later.

“Hey, man. You’re back?”

“Yeah, got in this morning.”

“What? And you’re just contacting me now? Rude.”

“Hey, I’m still pissed at you over that box, remember?”

Lance laughs. It sounds slightly tinny in the phones speaker.  “Come on, admit it, I did you a solid. Bet you used it, huh?”

“I’m not telling you that.”

“Never mind, I’ll ask Shiro at dinner tomorrow night, no wait! Put him on, I’ll ask him now.  Shiro? Shiro!“

Keith holds the phone away from his ear when Lance starts to holler.  “Will you quit that! We’re not together.”

There’s an instant… and very long beat of silence on the other end of the line. “W... what?”

It takes Keith a moment to realise the conclusion Lance has drawn is very different to what he meant.  

“Ugh,” Keith makes a strangled sound at the back of his throat. He suddenly regrets answering the call. He’s tired and wired at the same time and his body is seems confused about what time of day it’s supposed to be. “No, _shit._ No, I mean we have to spend the night apart. Well, twenty-four hours at least.”

“I don’t follow. Is this a Lotor thing?”

“It’s a Honerva thing.”

“Honerva?” Lance’s confusion is clear in his tone.  “Who’s that when they’re at home?”

“The lead scientist running the experiment and… Lotor’s mom.”

“Lotor has a mom? I thought he hatched from like… some slimy alien egg in a gutter somewhere?”

Keith can’t stop the burst of laughter that bubbles up his throat at the unwitting mental image that pops up in his mind.  “Gross, man.”

“Ugh,” Lance makes a noise that Keith guesses is supposed to be a shudder. “So how was the honeymoon anyway? _Why_ aren’t you guys together now?”

“Apparently to give us time in our own environments to process everything that’s happened. Or something.”

“Okay…” Lance says it suspiciously.  “So… are you processing? What happened? Are you in lovvvvee?” Lance sings out the last word and Keith is suddenly glad this isn’t a visual conversation because he’s not sure he wants to see the kissy faces he’s a hundred per cent sure Lance is making right now.

“It was-“ he has to pause to clear his throat. He’s doubly glad it’s not a visual conversation when he feels the skin of cheeks get hot.  “Nice,” he finishes lamely.

As soon as the word has finished forming on his lips, he realises instantly it was the wrong thing to say.

“Nice? _Nice?_ Keith, spending time with little old ladies and playing bingo with them while you nibble at delicate little tea cakes is nice. A week in the tropics with someone who looks like Shiro had better be more than just nice or I might start to think there is something seriously wrong with you- well, actually, we already know there’s something seriously wrong with you, who knows how many times Kolivan dropped you on your head as a baby-“

“Asshole,” Keith mutters good-naturedly  into the phone. Lance laughs.

“Okay, in all seriousness-“ he pauses to take in a deep breath. “Are you happy? Please tell me you at least don’t hate each other?”

“We definitely _don’t_ hate each other,” Keith confirms and there’s a satisfied little huff from Lance. There’s a brief lull then Lance’s voice turns soft.

“Hunk told me what happened with his arm. That must have freaked you out.”

Keith relates the story back to Lance, relishing the chance to talk a little bit of shop as they speculate over the cause of the malfunction and Shiro’s body’s reaction to it.  “Hunk said it was the salt water so we just steered clear of the beach and did other stuff instead and that seemed to work,” he finishes.

“Other stuff,” Lance snickers and Keith groans.

“You seriously have a one-track mind.”

“Dude, you haven’t been laid in… what, years? I’m just looking out for you, buddy.”

“Seriously?!”

Lance cracks up again. Keith finds himself grinning even if his face is still hot with embarrassment.  He’d missed Lance more than he realised.

“What happens when the twenty-four hours are up? Are you going to see each other again?”

“More than that. Stage two, which means moving in together.”

“His or yours?”

“His,” Keith says.  He shifts on the couch and feels a spring dig into his back. It’s older than he is, a relic from Kolivan’s bachelor days but it was free and worn in enough to still be comfortable. It was starting to die in earnest now though. Keith idly hopes Shiro’s couch is nicer, he couldn’t imagine getting frisky on this thing without it collapsing under them.

“Thank fuck for that, your place is a dump,” Lance informs him cheerily. “Look, not to be an enabler here but forget what… what was her name? Haggar?”

“Honerva.”

“Hmm, sounds like some kind of car. Anyway, forget what Honerva says. If you want to talk to him, just call him. This is your marriage. If you want to say goodnight to your husband, then call him and do it.”

“What the-“

The protest dies on his lips. He can almost hear Lance puff out his chest on the other end of the line.

“I’m right, aren’t I? You’ve spent all week with him and now you don’t know what to do with yourself and you miss him. I bet he misses you too.”

There’s a moment of silence as Keith considers Lance’s words. He’s right, Keith knows he’s right. Part of him wants to pick up the phone and say _fuck it_ and talk to Shiro because holy hell, he _does_ miss him. On the other hand… even if he wanted to throw the experiment guidelines out the window in earnest, he can’t.

“I can’t,” he mumbles into the phone.

“Sure, you can. Just hang up from me and press dial on your phone and-“

“No, god you’re an ass. No. I mean… I haven’t got his number.”

There’s a beat of silence.  Then two.

“Excuse me, _what?”_

Keith lets his eyes drift close and braces himself for the fallout. “I. Don’t. Have. His. Number.”

Lance cackles loudly for a good few minutes over that. “Wait, wait, wait. You mean to tell me you _married_ the guy but you didn’t think to swap phone numbers? KEITH, ITS NOT A TINDER DATE, JESUS.”

“Shut the hell up,” Keith grumbles weakly but it does sound ridiculous when Lance puts it like that. 

“Oh man, you’re so bad at this.”

“We were together the entire time!” Keith shoots back defensively. “We didn’t need to text each other!”

Lance is still cackling. “Do you want me to call Hunk? I can get it from him… it will be just like high school, passing notes at the back of the class. Want me to find out if he likes you too?”

“Shut up.”

“’Doesn’t have his number’,” Lance snickers into the phone again.  Keith lets him dine out on it for a few more minutes before he ends the call. He wouldn’t have even known about the experiment had it not been for Lance. And he wouldn’t have met Shiro.

He figures Lance has earned this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always... my door is open if you want to chat mafs! (especially mafs!Lance because I love him)


	30. bring all that you're scared to defend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- - Stage 2 Begins - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having far too much fun with this ridiculous fic and I love being able to share this with all you lovely people who leave me comments and send me messages and follow the new [ mafs blog](https://sheithmafsau.tumblr.com/). Thank you so much!  
> (also i went back to rewrite this chapter after some feedback, so hopefully it still all flows okay)

The car pulls up outside the front of Shiro’s townhouse about twenty minutes after he’d left the interview room and Keith along with it. He’s happy to see it, and a little flicker of pride warms his chest when he opens the door and steps out. 

After a lifetime spent living on base in generic galaxy garrison housing with his enlisted parents and then his high-ranking grandfather, the chance to snap up a small part of suburbia for himself had proven to be one of the happier outcomes after the accident that stole so much from him.

Nestled in a firmly middle-class neighbourhood, his townhouse is modest on the outside, not overly large and slotted in neatly against the rest of similar ilk houses in the street. It sits three levels high, the ground level merely a dark garage door that meets the road and wide sandstone steps lead up one side to a front door that’s painted a deep, glossy black.  It settles beautifully against the pale grey stucco and white trim around the windows. Rows of lush green foliage neatly trimmed in small pots line the modest balcony that runs off the porch and a climbing bougainvillea lends a splash of deep purple and pink along one wall as it crawls up to the third level. 

Thanks in part to a comfortable inheritance and a generous sum eventually awarded to him as compensation after the crash, he was able to have this one indulgence.

Well, this townhouse… and the sleek black car squatting low and fat on black inked rims in the garage downstairs.

Once the porch, Shiro puts down his suitcase and lays his bionic hand over the keypad by the front door. The glowing red light blinks green and a small click sounds a second before the door pops open slightly. He nudges it wide with his foot and turns to collect his case and pull it inside behind him. 

The space opens up into the main living areas, smooth tiles in accents of grey and black line the floors and a sleek, modern kitchen lines one side before the room opens up into a dining space and a comfortable L shaped lounge.  Beyond the softly billowing curtains, there are glimpses of a small deck and a courtyard, a simple and private space that he looked forward to sharing lazy Sunday mornings with Keith, drinking coffee and enjoying the lazy pace of a day without anywhere to be.

Black waits for him regally in the centre of the island bench, his tail curled around his paws and his gold eyes wide and unblinking as they regard Shiro approaching. The bowl at his feet is half empty, and Shiro dumps his suitcase by the bottom of the stairs as he crosses the room to give him a pat. 

“Hey, buddy. Did you miss me? I bet Pidge and Hunk took good care of you, huh?”

Black leans in to his scratch under the chin and purrs, briefly allowing the small display of affection before turning back to eating. Rebuffed by the quiet crunch of Black and his kibble, it hits Shiro that he hadn’t really been expecting to come back to his townhouse alone.

The space suddenly feels very empty in a way it never had before and some emotion in his chest flutters strangely close to uneasy at how much he misses Keith already.

He gives Black one more loving pat, brushing against the fur at the top of his glossy black head and down his back to his tail. Black arches into it without halting his eating but then releases a low growl at being disturbed and makes Shiro chuckle.  “Okay, I know when I’m not wanted.”

Black makes another quiet little growl as he moves away and Shiro collects his case and pulls it up the stairs to the next level of the townhouse. There are two other rooms on this level, the master suite and a spare room that’s currently set up as a home office. He hopes there’s not going to be any problems with Keith settling in, or one of them is going to end up either sleeping on the couch or on the one lonely beanbag in the corner of the study.

He shoves the case in the direction of the bed just as a wave of fatigue hits him with full force.  He pauses barely long enough to kick off his shoes before collapsing into a heap onto the mattress. The clean, fresh scent of the sheets fill his nostrils and it reminds him of how he’d gone out and bought new linen especially in anticipation of the stranger he married joining him here.

His thoughts turn sluggish as they flirt with sleep and he vainly tries to picture Keith on these sheets but he doesn’t get any further than a flash of Keith’s smile behind his eyelids.

He passes out with thoughts of Keith on his mind.

 

* * *

 

Katie Holt, lovingly dubbed Pidge by those closest to her, had kindly been looking after Black while he was on his honeymoon. Even before the crash that had very nearly killed her father and her brother, the moment she had realised Shiro was alone in the world after the passing of his grandfather, Pidge had attached herself to Shiro like a barnacle on an old yacht and Shiro wouldn’t have it any other way. He adored her as fiercely as her brother Matt, or her boyfriend Hunk did and that was just the effect she had on the people around her. It wasn’t just her magnetism, it was more. Shiro owed her a lot.

The first few weeks adjusting to the loss of his arm and healing from a crushed pelvis and a broken collarbone had been hell, and that was in spite of the cutting-edge tech medical pods that accelerated curative effects so that his healing had been reduced to mere weeks instead of long, agonizing months.

The doctors had worked on healing his body but it was Pidge who worked on healing his spirit.

She was a powerhouse of determination despite her diminutive size, and along with her boyfriend Hunk, they had helped drag Shiro out of the darkness and as he wandered through his townhouse now, freshly showered and better rested, he could see her touch in places he hadn’t noticed when he first arrived home. Her care and attention made him smile to himself.

She had filled his freezer with lovingly home cooked meals (no doubt created by Hunk), made sure there were fresh flowers on the dining table to fill the room with a soft, lingering floral fragrance.  In the corner, a floor lamp was lit up in anticipation of him arriving home. They were all little touches to make his place feel welcoming for when he arrived back with Keith. Only Keith wasn’t with him.

His smile fades.

“Only for tonight,” he says to Black as the cat weaves between his feet.

Shiro knows better than to pick Black up no matter how affectionate he seems to be now. He would only get a hiss and a swipe for his trouble. He was okay with that, Black came to him with a troubled past and it had taken time to build the trust between them.  When Black came to him, it needed to be on Black’s terms but there had been many awful nights when Shiro had woken from a bad dream shaking or trying to breathe through the cracks of a storm outside that Black would materialize out of the darkness to curl up on his chest. 

They had an understanding that couldn’t be quantified. He hoped it would be extended to Keith eventually too.

“He’ll be here tomorrow,” Shiro tells the black shape stalking across the room. “He’s amazing, you’ll like him.”

Black doesn’t look back.

The glowing lines of the clock on the wall tells him it’s still only the early evening. He’s slept a good five hours but it’s still not enough to catch up on the missed sleep from that wasted night fretting over his unwitting force on Keith’s skin or from the long flight home. He forces himself to shower and dress in a comfortable pair of cotton shorts that hang low on his hips then wanders into the kitchen to reheat one of the meals Pidge had left for him. As the smell wafts through the townhouse, Shiro makes a mental note to call her and thank her.  The fact that she’d even stocked his fruit basket with fresh fruit, popped fresh milk into the fridge and stashed some more fresh basics in his kitchen means that he wouldn’t have to worry about filling the pantries any time soon. He’d be able to spend that extra time with Keith ahead of returning back to work instead. That was probably her intention all along. It’s comforting to know how much his family wanted this match to work.

A bit later with his hunger finally sated, he meanders back into the bedroom. He promises himself he’ll wait until the sun has set completely before crawling back into bed in an attempt to fight off the jetlag lurking in his system but it just leaves him with more time to look at the empty spaces in the townhouse and imagine what it will be like when Keith fills them. It was odd to see them now, the gaping empty space along one wall of the walk-in robe that was ready and waiting for Keith’s things, the unfilled draws on one side of the bed. He’d been so full of cautious hope when he had cleared them days before the wedding but now there was a strange kind of dull ache mingling with the fullness of his heart.

The wedding and their honeymoon had been a beautiful interlude that had really gave him the chance to get to know the man he’d been matched with. All that time with Keith, seeing his walls drop lower and lower until they crumbled all together showed Shiro that Keith was the man he wanted in his life. It had been blissfully easily to be swept up in the romance of it but now that they were back in the real world, having to face the real mundane pressures of their everyday lives, Shiro wonders how they will fit together.

He is under no illusions that this is where the real work begins.

 

* * *

 

It’s almost midnight when his phone pings and when he fumbles for it in the dark, he has to do a double take at the unfamiliar scroll of numbers on the screen.  The message however, leaves no doubts as to who the number belongs to.

_Hi :)_

His face feels like it’s about to split in two from his smile.

 _Hi baby_ – somehow even typing the word feels soft and important. There’s a part of him that’s entirely unsurprised that Keith has decided to ignore Honerva’s instructions and he’s glad for it. Keith breaking the rules just to reach out to him… something about that feels significant and he relishes it.

Another message from Keith pops up. _Can I call?_

Shiro dials first. Keith sounds slightly breathless on the other end of the line.

“Hey,” Keith says and the quiet hesitation in his voice makes Shiro feel warm.  “I know they told us no contact but, uh…  I miss you.”

Shiro has to swallow back a lump in his throat at the soft admission. There’s a weight against one foot that his mind registers as Black but aside from that, the bed feels empty and wide lying there alone. He’d never realised how big it was before.

“Breaking the rules, huh?” Shiro teases gently. His own voice sounds husky with the left-over threads of sleep. “I’m glad because I miss you too.”

“How did you know it was me?” Keith asks curiously.  “Or do you just answer that way to any random message?”

Shiro laughs softly.  “Oh, I had a feeling,” he says back. Keith hums something on the other end of the line. “How did you manage it though? Get my number that is.”

There’s a little cough from Keith and a rustle. It sounds like he’s lying back, probably in his bed on the other side of town. They’d been living their own lives in the same city for years, not even knowing the other existed.  Shiro wonders if they would they have found each other eventually.

“Lance tracked it down from Hunk. Turns out it’s pretty helpful that our friends already know each other. Oh, Hunk said to tell you he wants to see you on Monday to recalibrate your arm.”

Shiro chuckles at that. “Okay, noted.  Nice of Lance to come through for us again.”

Keith makes a noncommittal sound on the other end of the line and Shiro wonders if they talked about the fluffy handcuffs. The fluffy handcuffs now stashed at the bottom of his sock draw because he has plans for those cuffs. One day.

“Did you get any sleep?” he asks after a beat.  It’s not difficult to fill the spaces with Keith, but it’s nice that he doesn’t always have to. He liked that the silences between them were never awkward.

“Sort of. I had weird dreams. Kind of too wired to sleep now.”

“What kind of dreams?”

It takes Keith a moment to answer.  When he does, there’s a faint tremor of something that sounds like unease in his voice. “I couldn’t find you. I was just... searching. But you were gone. It… it felt so real.”

Shiro lets an exhale slide through his teeth. Keith sounds more disturbed than he lets on. Shiro has only known his husband for a week, but already he can read the tones and inflections in his voice.

“I’m right here,” he says softly. “And tomorrow, you’re going to be right here too.”

“Yeah,” Keith answers but it sounds unconvinced. It makes Shiro frown and shift onto his side in the bed. Would it be weird to stare at the spot where Keith will be in less than 24 hours from now and imagine him there? Probably. But so was marrying a stranger at first sight.

“Just a dream, Keith,” he says firmly even as he keeps his voice soft. “Probably just your subconscious trying to make sense of this part of the experiment. After a whole week together and now being apart… Look, I’m not going anywhere, okay.”

“Yeah,” and this time it sounds stronger, more confident. Then Keith’s tone turns soft. “I had to hear your voice again. I was lying here wondering if I dreamed the last week. Everything here is the same but… everything is different too.”

“I get that,” Shiro says. “I keep looking at my ring. I’d gotten used to it on the island but here it feels different.”

Shiro holds up his hand, the ring dark against his skin. If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine the thread snaking through another plane of existence that links from his ring to Keith’s. In a dizzying way, Keith is away from him, but inside him at the same time, tucked up in his heart. He’s never felt this close to anyone before.

“You know, I’m not usually this much of a sap,” Keith says ruefully. He sounds half amused, half resigned. “At least I don’t think I am. This is all new for me.”

“Me too,” Shiro answers quietly. And it was true.  Love, romantic notions, grand sweeping gestures – he’d never experienced them anywhere outside of a fictional setting in a movie.  What was blossoming between himself and Keith – it made him want to dance on rooftops and sing at the stars. If this wasn’t love that was starting to creep through his heart, then he couldn’t imagine what else it could be.

“Yeah?” Keith sounds breathless again. Shiro smiles in the darkness.

“Yeah. Guess we’ll just have to muddle through together.”

There’s a muttered curse on the other end of the phone then a sigh. “This is stupid. I should get on my bike right now.”

“Then neither of us would get any sleep,” Shiro chuckles.  Keith is so keen for them to be in the same space, it puts Shiro’s chest at ease.  Only a few more hours. 

“Hmm,” Keith says and it sounds like a yawn. 

“See,” Shiro laughs. “Get some rest, baby.”

“Is that an order?”

“Do you want it to be? I’m starting to think you want me to order you around.”

Silence. 

Shiro’s laugh is a rumble in his chest.  “Thought so. Enjoy your last night in your old bed, you won’t be sleeping in it again after tonight.”

There’s another few beats of silence, long enough that Shiro wonders if maybe he overstepped or if Keith had fallen asleep.  Then there’s a slight crackle in his eat and he realises it’s just Keith changing position. He tries not to think about Keith alone in his bed, probably naked and-

He briefly entertains the thought of calling Keith an uber until he remembers they have the next eight weeks and beyond together.  “Keith?”

Keith’s response is practically a purr.  “Yes, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I love hearing your comments and thoughts!


	31. give me all that you hope to receive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- - Newlywed couples who met and married as strangers just one week ago have returned from their honeymoon. With the honeymoon period now over, they face the challenges of everyday life as a married couple. - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this is mega self indulgent but then what else is new)

Keith stares at the suitcase waiting by the door of his apartment. It’s the second time in as many weeks he’s packed it up and left it there in readiness to leave and lock the door behind him, but even with the full backpack slung over his shoulder, it all seems pitifully small considering it’s supposed to contain most of his life. He isn’t sad to be leaving this space. There’s nothing left here for him.

By the time the door finally locks behind him, he’s forgotten about the threadbare couch and dated kitchen and he’s already looking forward to what comes next.   

When he gets out onto the street, he’s surprised to find Lotor waiting beside the curb, leaning up against a black town car. Keith slows his step, flicking his gaze over the other man trying to gauge if it’s the same Lotor he’d spoken to last night, or if he’s going to be as aloof as he had been at the wedding. 

Neither of the men smile.

“Keith,” Lotor greets him quietly. He gestures to the car silently.

“I wasn’t expecting to have an escort,” Keith frowns.

He doesn’t make a move to get into the car.  If anything, he’s mildly annoyed at the sensation that makes him feel like a child being handled. The boundaries and expectations of the experiment were starting to grate on him. Now out of his apartment and standing in the morning sunshine, he’s anxious to finally see Shiro again. Even after they’d spoken quietly together over the phone, Keith still slept badly, plagued by dreams that held Shiro just out of his reach. His wrist sports the bracelet, his finger is circled by his wedding band, but it’s not enough, he really just wants to see that Shiro is real, and not some phantom cooked up by his lonely imagination.

“Merely a formality,” Lotor shrugs with an elegant life of his shoulders. He’s wearing a long dark coat that seems out of place in the warm spring weather and his pale hair is pulled back at the nape of his neck. It’s a little odd. He seems softer than Keith remembers, or maybe it’s just Keith looking at him through different eyes in light of the olive branch extended the night before.

Lotor raises an eyebrow expectantly and this time it’s Keith that shrugs. Had the scientists stooped as far as to tap their phones? Did he know that Keith had broken their rules? Was Lotor here to call him out on it?

Maybe the interrogation will come in the car. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Keith dumps his bags into the trunk, then slams the lid down with a little more force than necessary.  He winces inwardly at the thud, feeling a little bit like a child having a tantrum when Lotor merely raises an ultra-cool eyebrow at him.  He tries to ignore it, stalking around the side of the car and getting in.  He mentally braces himself for whatever might be thrown at him, but strangely, Lotor doesn’t talk and Keith spends the drive staring out of the window watching the streets go by and trying to tamper down on the confusing mix of nerves and excitement that build in his stomach.

The car stops in a pretty, treelined street filled with a row of neat, vaguely Tuscan styled townhouses. It’s a sharp contrast to his rundown building, tucked away on the edges of an industrial estate that bled into the air and shipping ports of the city.  There wasn’t a blade of grass out of place here and the neighbours smiled as they passed, walking along with their firmly upper middle-class dogs leading their firmly upper middle-class lives. Keith experiences a faint flicker of unease when he eyes the garage door and wonders what’s behind it and if his bike will fit.  He’s going to have to get used to wheeling his bike down the street before he starts it, or Shiro might end up suddenly unpopular with his neighbours if it has to roar to life any time in the early mornings, of which there is a stellar chance of happening on a semi-regular basis.

“Is this it?” he asks as he climbs out of the car. He stares around at his surroundings. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting but this wasn’t quite it.

“Number 117.  This is Shiro’s residence, yes.”

“Hmm. Nice.” 

Lotor hands him an envelope and a small package.

“These are the details of this evening’s event. It will be the first time you present yourselves as a couple to your friends. As always, we will cover these costs and you will be expected to return to headquarters to complete an interview session with Honerva.”

“Not you?”

Lotor avoids his eye. “No. Honerva will be taking over the interviews from now on.”

“What about this?” Keith asks, holding up the package. “Another mystery box? More intrusive questions?”

Lotor stiffens slightly. “The intention of the questions is not to be intrusive, but to facilitate communication between you both.”

“Really? And I suppose the joy flight around the island on the honeymoon with a man who has a history of PTSD directly relating to flying is just something else you tried to do to facilitate communication?” Keith can’t quite keep the challenge out of his voice.

Lotor levels him with a stare. “And what was the outcome of that, Mr Kogane?”

Keith opens his mouth to snap out a retort, only his words fail him. 

What was the outcome of that? It certainly pushed them closer together, then the tech in his arm went haywire and then… There was no denying that domino effect that flowed on.  Keith shakes his head and his hair bounces. “Wait, how could you possibly-“

“But, no,” Lotor cuts him off smoothly.  “It’s not another box of questions. That happens to be a gift.”

That catches Keith by surprise. “A gift?”

There’s something that might be the beginning of a smile on Lotor’s lips.  “Consider it a reminder of why you’re here. And… a peace offering.”

Before Keith can think question him further, Lotor gets back into the car and the door shuts. The dark tint of the window blocks him from sight.

Keith tucks the envelope into his jacket and the wrapped package into his backpack as he slips it over one shoulder. He grabs the handle of his case and he’s halfway up the stairs before the door to the townhouse opens and a familiar shape is hurrying down to meet him. Almost instantly, his heartrate kicks up in anticipation.

It’s a breath of fresh air to see his husband again, and the smile Shiro flashes at him forces aside any niggling worries about how it will feel when he saw him again. Shiro scoops him close with arm around his waist and pulls him tightly against his chest. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, a split second before their lips brush then slide together.  It feels more like coming home than returning to his old apartment ever did.

“Hi,” Shiro smiles after their kiss.  He doesn’t let Keith go, cradling him against his body like he’s something he’s been craving for a long time. 

Keith’s heart flips in his chest in something that can only be described as happiness. A happy grin turns up his lips as he leans into Shiro’s warmth. Shiro feels solid and real even if he smells faintly different to what Keith remembers. It’s a heavier tone of something like cedar against his skin and it takes Keith a moment to realise it’s the absence of the salt air that makes it seem different.

His hands slide up to curl against the back of Shiro’s head and his fingers rub against the soft buzz before trailing over to card through the white blaze against his forehead. Shiro’s grip around his waist slides down to hips and then he hauls Keith closer again for another kiss. Without realising it, they knock his suitcase and it almost tumbles down the stairs.

“Are you planning to give your neighbours a show?” Keith grins as they pull apart to lunge for it. Once it’s steadied on the step, Shiro pulls him close again and hums, trailing a row of tiny kisses down the side of Keith’s jaw.  They should really go inside but, god, but that feels so good and Keith doesn’t want to move.

“I’ve been dying to kiss you since you hung up last night,” Shiro confesses. “Let me get my fill so I know I didn’t just hallucinate the whole of last week.”

Keith lets a breathless laugh escape. He understands just what Shiro means and in response he tilts his face upwards to request another kiss.  Yeah, they’re probably creating a scene for the neighbours but let them look.  This was the love of his life right here. Nosy neighbours would just have to get used to it.

Shiro’s the first one to step back but he keeps their hands linked. “Did you find the place okay?”

Keith curls his lip then jerks his head towards the car still lingering on the street.  Let Lotor run back and report that to his mother and her cronies about their greeting.  “Personally escorted by Lotor himself.”

“Yeah?”  Shiro’s eyes flicker warily over Keith’s shoulder towards the black town car as it slowly pulls away from the curb. A tiny crease mars the centre of his brows and Keith has the urge to reach out and smooth it away with the pad of his thumb. 

“Forget about him,” Keith says with a slight frown. “Can we go inside?”

The frown vanishes as quickly as it comes and Shiro’s gunmetal grey eyes flash with warmth in the morning sunlight. That same sun catches the snowy strands of his hair against the black and it makes them sparkle. Keith is so pleased to be back in Shiro’s orbit, it almost leaves him breathless.

Shiro takes his hand and leads him up to the top step, Keith’s case trailing behind. At the door, Shiro grins at him a split second before Keith steps back in alarm.

“No,” he states firmly, pushing his hands up in front of him and giving Shiro a rough glare.  “Nuh uh, you did that already on the wedding night.”

“It’s tradition,” Shiro teases.

“Maybe it’s my turn to carry _you,“_ Keith challenges and Shiro grins, looking him up and down with a glint in his eye. He swipes his hand over the door pad and the door clicks open.

“Yeah? I’d like to see you try,” Shiro tries to laugh but it dies a slow death when he catches onto the mutinous set of Keith’s jaw. Shiro tilts his head and his eyes narrow even as they spark with a low heat. “Wait, are you serious?”

Keith rolls his eyes and huffs. “Don’t think I couldn’t, Shirogane,” he mutters as he grabs the handle of his case and shoves past Shiro and into the townhouse with a false bravado before Shiro can have the chance to grab him. “You know I could pin you against a wall and fuck you easily enough.”

Shiro’s eyebrows shoot up. “I wish you would,” Shiro answers mildly.

Keith smirks over his shoulder at him, feeling Shiro right on his heels as he enters the building. The door clicks shut behind them and then his eyes go wide as he takes in the sleek, modern décor of Shiro’s home minted in rich tones of black and blue-greys.

“Wow,” Keith says faintly.  It’s a little bit like a show home, neat surfaces with just hints of Shiro scattered around.  On the side table next to a wide, comfortable looking couch there’s a few astronomy magazines, next to a photo of what looks like to be a young Shiro and an even younger Matt standing in front of one of the garrison’s space faring jets.  In another corner, a framed star chart leans against the wall next to a small potted plant with lush green leaves.  No plastic plants here, Keith dimly registers, these ones look real.

Beside the modest flatscreen TV that adorns the wall opposite the couch there’s a small bookshelf containing more photo frames and a few scaled down models of planes and rockets.  Keith hasn’t even realised he’s dropped his bag as he pads over towards it to investigate and he finds photos of a stern faced older gentleman resplendent in formal garrison greys and a chest full of badges.  He blinks when he realises that this must be Shiro’s grandfather. 

Beside that is another framed image, this time of a young couple staring into each other’s eyes, a bride in a flowing white dress and a man proudly in uniform.  They both have the same dark hair but the woman has Shiro’s grey eyes.

“My parents,” Shiro says quietly and Keith almost starts. 

Something pangs strangely in Keith’s chest. He doesn’t quite understand what it is, but it makes him ache a little.  He doesn’t even remember what his mother looks like, not really.  When he realised Keith’s mother wasn’t coming back, Kolivan removed all the photos of her, dumped her clothes and all her traces. It had become like she never existed, save for the fact she’d left a crying toddler behind.

Twenty two years and Keith still hasn’t quite forgiven him for that.

“They look happy,” Keith says and his voice sounds wistful. Shiro steps a little closer to him.

“I wish they could have met you,” he says and it makes Keith’s chest almost crack at the whisper of pain in Shiro’s voice. 

“Me too,” Keith answers softly.  _I wish I could tell them how much I love their son. Thank them for giving him to the world._

He has to blink away his fanciful thoughts and force himself to turn away. 

It takes him a second before he realises the dark shape curled on one of the couch cushions isn’t just decorative. It shifts, then stretches languidly for padding over to perch at the end of the couch.  A pair of gold eyes stare at him.

“And this is Black,” Shiro says with a touch of pride in his voice.

Keith is aware of Shiro becoming still as he takes a step towards Black and kneels down. He holds out a fist and Black regards him silently for a beat before gingerly stretching his neck forward to sniff. Keith waits patiently, not quite making eye contact and it works because Black’s sniff turns into something new when he headbutts then rubs his head against Keith’s closed fist.

He glances up to see Shiro’s reaction and the look on Shiro’s face makes his breath catch in his throat. 

“He’s never done that with anyone before,” Shiro says faintly. He’s almost frowning and Keith blinks, then backtracks, wondering if he’s inadvertently stepped into a special bond that might only exist between Black and Shiro.

“Oh, ah-“

“No,” Shiro says hurriedly, then he gives Keith a smile that makes his breath catch again, but this time in an entirely new way.  Shiro’s voice goes as soft.  “Clearly he sees what I see.” 

Keith has to look away from the intensity in Shiro’s gaze.

Black gives him a final rub before jumping down and padding his way over to the kitchen. Keith rises to his feet. He feels a slightly flushed and he shoves his hands in his pockets for want of anything better to do.  He glances around the living space once again.

“This is nice, Shiro. Really nice.”

“I suppose I should give you a proper tour?” Shiro suggests.  Keith nods.

“Sure,” he says and then he’s trailing after Shiro as Shiro leads him through the layout of his townhouse.  Keith tries to take it all in, the cavernous garage on the lower level they can access through internal stairs (oh, and definitely plenty of room for his bike), the pretty courtyard outside that’s private and inviting.  Shiro tells him about the lazy Sunday brunches when Hunk and Pidge come over and usually drag an overworked Matt with them and they sit around sharing the morning in an effort to charge up for the week ahead.  It sounds all very inviting, a far cry from Keith’s usual Sundays spent trying to wash the blood out of his uniform or drooling into a pillow because his Saturday night shift bled too easily into a Sunday morning shift because it was the weekend and they were all overworked and understaffed.

Shiro takes him up upstairs, trailing his suitcase behind them and quickly showing him the small home office with plenty of internal storage before nudging him towards the master suite. It’s almost like a hotel room, the wide walk in robe next to a gorgeously appointed ensuite (Keith had no idea bathrooms could be so pretty) all framed by the wide bed and low hanging pendant lights that give the room a warm golden glow even despite the daylight outside. He can see a small deck leading out through the drapes but his eyes focus on the vacant spaces in the robe instead.

“Those are for your things,” Shiro says but then he glances at Keith’s case.  “You don’t have a lot?”

Keith opted not to say too much. Both answers that flittered across his mind sounded vaguely pathetic to him. _Oh, might only be here eight weeks, don’t want to get too comfortable._   Or option number two of _I don’t own much._

Maybe he’s like his mom, a handful of stuff easy to dump and nothing left behind to show he even existed.

Confused by the strange turn of his thoughts, he tries to force a smile to his lips when he realises Shiro is watching him expectantly.  “Thanks,” he says and his voice croaks.  He clears it before continuing.  “Thanks, Shiro,” he tries again and this time he sounds more like himself.

Shiro leans in to brush a kiss over his forehead and runs a hand over his hair. “Okay, I’ll leave you to get settled. I’ve got to talk to Hunk about some new calibration for my arm anyway.”

Keith’s pretty sure he doesn’t, but he appreciates what Shiro is trying to do anyway.

He’s left alone in the room and he unpacks his meagre possessions.  It’s strange to see his uniforms dark blue hanging beside the pressed grey of Shiro’s garrison garb.  It’s even stranger again to wander into the bathroom and fill the shelf that Shiro had cleared for him with his lonely toothbrush and few items. 

He stares at the toothbrush for a moment before taking it off the shelf and sticking it next to Shiro’s, just like they used to have it back in the bungalow.  It seems like such a small thing but it instantly makes him feel better.

It feels… awkward after the time apart, despite the welcome Shiro gave him on the front step. 

Up until now, they’ve shared neutral ground. At the wedding, it was a combination of their friends and family, the wedding night they shared a hotel room, the honeymoon and the bungalow had been a shared space. It already felt like another lifetime ago, even though it was only days.

But here… This is Shiro’s space and it’s not equal footing no matter how hard they try to convince themselves it is. Keith can already feel the walls closing in on him, that pressure that he didn’t quite belong here. Like he was some kind of imposter or just playing house in some kind of make believe world.

Maybe he was. Maybe in eight weeks he’ll be glad he has so little gear with him, less to pack and haul back into the space he’d left behind.

He wanders back out to the bedroom and sits down on the edge of the bed.  His side, Shiro had told him. Because they had sides now. Shiro’s opened a space for him both physically and metaphorically and he’s slotted right in.  Or has he?

Shiro’s bedroom is full of him, so much more than the living space downstairs. Here the sheets carried the faint scent of his skin, the bedside table has a small notebook and a pen, a scrawl of words Keith knows he shouldn’t be snooping at but he can’t help but lean over to read anyway. It’s nothing salacious, just a grocery list but it’s the first time Keith has seen what Shiro’s handwriting looks like.

Once again, it hits him how little he knows about his husband, even with how much he’s learned.

He knows what Shiro looks like when he’s tired and falling asleep, the way one eyelid slides down almost imperceptibly slower than the other, the way his eyes seem to change colour depending on the colour he’s wearing, ranging from a pale silver to deep gunmetal grey. He knows how Shiro’s shoulder sometimes aches at the end of the day, and just the best way to massage it to ease some of the pain. He knows the sound of his voice first thing in the morning, when it’s gravely and heavy with sleep and he knows how he looks when Keith is pushing inside him, the way his mouth slackens when he shatters in Keith’s hands.

He knows all these things, but he doesn’t know simple things that a life partner probably should about the person they’re going to create a life with.

Are they just kidding themselves? Could this really work?

He glances around. It’s all beautiful, and very Shiro and he instantly loves it for that fact alone. But shit, this wasn’t a cheap lifestyle. How was he going to make his salary stretch to be an equal partner in this relationship in a place like this?

There’s a faint jingle of a bell before a set of white paws under a black body land nimbly on the bed.  Keith glances up, startled to see Blacks wide golden eyes staring him down.

“Hi Black, checking to see I’m not encroaching on your space?” he says quietly.  Again, he holds out a fist and as before, Black wanders over to nudges it with his head once, then twice, before padding across the white pale sheets and curling up in one corner.

It’s just what he needed to pull him out of his low spiralling thoughts.

He twists the wedding band absently around his finger. The best way to settle his unease? Go downstairs and talk to his husband.

He digs out the package from Lotor out of his backpack then heads downstairs to where he can hear Shiro tinkering around in the kitchen.  When he glances up, Keith can see a shutter in his eyes.  At least this momentous step seems to be hitting the both of them fairly hard.  Shiro tries to hide it behind a forced smile and a bevy of chatter.

It sets a claw scratching at the inside of Keith’s skull.

At the bungalow, they’d never needed to spill the empty spaces with forced conversation. At the bungalow it was an equal footing.  At the bungalow, Keith didn’t feel like the walls were screaming at him that he didn’t belong here and to _run, run, run_.  His stomach sinks to the floor.

“So, bin day is Friday and there’s a cleaning service that comes in when I’m at work so you’ll have to let them know your schedule so they don’t bother you if you’re trying to get some rest and I’ll get you a code for the door because the house doesn’t use keys-“

Shiro hands him a glass but Keith isn’t really listening, his mind only dimly registering what he’s saying. Keith can hear the tension reverberating in Shiro’s voice.  It feels a lot like the tension in his body.

He places his glass gently down on the counter then steps around into the kitchen where Shiro is now standing at the sink with his back towards him. He supposes it’s easier that way, they can avoid eye contact.  He knows Shiro senses him coming because he doesn’t turn but his hands still. Keith curls his arms around Shiro’s waist and leans his cheek against his back. Maybe if they just touch each other, the uneasiness will leave and Keith can go back to loving his husband instead of planning a bunker for his heart to ride out the fallout.

“Hey,” Shiro pauses for a moment, rubbing his hand over Keith’s where they rested against his stomach. When Keith doesn’t answer him, he twists in Keith’s arms until Keith’s head is against his chest instead of his back. His heartbeat is sound against his ears and he concentrates on the beat even as the trained medic part of his mind notes the slight way it’s elevated.

“I’m nervous too,” Shiro finally says quietly. “But I’m so glad you’re finally here. I feel like I’ve been waiting a long time for you to be here. Is that weird?”

“Completely,” Keith answers with a half-smile. “But everything about this damn experiment is weird.”

Shiro tucks him in closer against his chest and Keith is unashamed about burrowing closer.  Shiro’s hand rubs slow circles against Keith’s lower back.

“Honerva’s little reveal really upset you didn’t it?”

Keith lets himself savour warmth of Shiro’s touch before sighing and finally pulling himself away. He steps back, just far enough to be out of Shiro’s reach and he leans against the counter. He needs to put some space between them in order to organise his thoughts.

“Yeah, I mean…. I don’t like how it feels. Like there’s an axe hanging over my head. Before I thought we would have all the time we needed to work things out at _our_ pace. Now it feels like we have to work to Honerva’s schedule and that pisses me off.”

“Hey,” Shiro grabs his hand and gives it a squeeze. It was his bionic hand and Keith had even missed that last night. God, he was in so fucking deep. “As long as we’re in this together, we’ll just go at our own pace. Forget about the deadline and what hoops they expect us to jump through. It doesn’t matter now. We’ve got each other.”

“Boy, you’re full of motivational pep talks today,” Keith says dryly. He tries to play it cool but then realises he’s too heartsore to bother.  Shiro would just see straight past his bullshit anyway.

Shiro reaches for him then, just one shiny metal hand held out and Keith takes it and allows himself to be drawn back in to Shiro’s space. “Did you ever think you would get this far?”

“In the experiment?” Keith has to pause for a moment. “No,” he says honestly.  He refused to let himself think too much about what lay beyond the wedding day. He couldn’t, he didn’t want to let his heart get too carried away on fear or hope. But now he feels unprepared. “Wouldn’t let myself think this far ahead.”

Shiro sighs a little and twines their fingers together on one hand. “Keith, if you need more time, or if you need to slow things down-“

“What? No. No, definitely not. If you’re going to make me sleep in the guest room I might as well just go back to my place,” he’s only half serious. “That beanbag looks as uncomfortable as fuck.”

Shiro laughs then and just the sound seems to push away some of his unease. “Pretty sure Black’s commandeered it for himself anyway.”

“Do… do you need to slow things down?” Keith asks cautiously.  He’s half dreading the answer to be an affirmative and he’s almost weak with relief when it’s not.

“I kind of want to speed things up.”

“Pretty sure you can’t go any faster than what we’ve gone,” Keith says.  “Getting married like three seconds after we met.”

“I’m sure we could go faster, like warp speed-”

“That’s not a real thing,” Keith snorts.

“It almost is. You should see the stuff the garrison is working on-“

“God, you’re such a nerd,” Keith mutters against Shiro’s chest but it’s filtered through amusement and each little exchange pushes more of the dark emotion from earlier away. The lightness starts to come back, especially when Shiro has to pull away to laugh.

Keith is pretty sure that Shiro’s laugh is going to be the death of him one day. The way he throws his head back and the sound just falls out of his chest as a deep rumble, the way his eyes close. He’s beautiful and Keith is in love.  He’s so in love with his husband.

He just hopes he’ll get to keep him.

The thought of the experiment and the deadline pushes back into his mind. He knows Shiro means well in his promise to ignore it, but Keith knows it’s never that easy. Eight- no, it’s seven now, shit – weeks is a long time and anything could happen. He’s going to have to tread carefully.  Maybe he can talk to Allura about changing his shifts, taking more day shifts to align more closely to the hours Shiro will be at the garrison… but he knows it’s not that simple. He goes when and where he’s needed and he’s almost powerless to say no.

“We’ve got something else too. Actually, two things. From Lotor.”

Shiro looks confused for a moment. His laugh gets stuck halfway between a grimace and a frown. “What?”

“This morning when we arrived, Lotor gave me this.” 

He slides the package across the bench. It’s wrapped in plain white paper with a red ribbon and judging by the size and shape, Keith guesses it’s probably a book.  He hands it to Shiro, encouraging him to do the honours.

Shiro takes it with a raised eyebrow and slides off the ribbon before peeling away the paper. What he sees makes him gasp a little softly.

“What is it?” Keith asks, straining to see.

“Our wedding photo,” Shiro says quietly. His voice sounds suspiciously thick and when Keith lays his eyes on the photo, he can understand why.

It’s them, just hours after they’d met on their wedding day, after they’d said their vows to each other, standing on one of the paths of the manor gardens.  Their fingers are entwined and Keith is leaning in against Shiro even though they aren’t looking at each other the closeness between them is clear as day. It’s lovely and brings back a flood of emotions Keith almost struggles to process.

“I remember that,” Keith says. Then he grins.  “I was wondering how long it would take for you to kiss me.”

“We… we look good,” Shiro says.  “You wouldn’t know by this that we’d only just met.” 

“It was there from the first moment, wasn’t it?” Keith asks without even realising he’s saying the words out loud.  It doesn’t click until Shiro raises an eyebrow at him and he flushes slightly. “Whatever this is,” he says and points between them.  “It was there from the start.”

“Yeah,” Shiro agrees.  “How much of it is science and how much of it is something else though?”

Keith can’t answer that.  He’s not sure if he wants to.

They stare at the photo for a moment longer before Shiro folds out the stand and places it onto the benchtop. “We’ll have to find somewhere special to put that,” he says quietly.

It’s all Keith can do to nod in agreement. He has to swallow before he’s able to speak again.

“Also, ah, before I left yesterday, Lotor caught up with me and gave me this-” he fishes it out of his jeans. Shiro’s eyes widen at the object in Keith’s hand.

“What’s that supposed to be?”

“Got a reader?”

“Yeah, one second.” Shiro rummages around in one of the draws and Keith watches with interest. He supposes he’s going to have to learn where everything is here eventually. It’s suddenly not as scary a prospect as before. This marriage of theirs will stick. It has to.

Shiro takes the key and slips it in to the tablet, and the information materializes on the screen in front of them. There’s not a great deal, just a few folders labelled things like _stage 1, stage 2, homestays._

Keith frowns as he looks at the list. “That doesn’t seem like it should be as important as he made out to be. None of this is news?”

“Maybe Lotor is trying to manipulate us,” Shiro muses.

“But why? What would it achieve. And won’t that screw with the experiment?”

“I guess… I guess we take this as a grain of salt.”

They both stare at the files in confusion and then something seems to click between them. Suddenly the weird dissonance that had vibrated between them earlier dissipates. Lotor had given them one thing. He’d given them a common focus and it turned their hyper attention away from each other and onto him.  Keith can work with that.  As long as he and Shiro are shoulder to shoulder, they’ll be able to weather anything that gets thrown at him. He chooses to believe that whole heartedly.

Shiro pushes the tablet away.  “Forget about that. We have a few hours before we meet the others for dinner.  What do you feel like doing? You all unpacked?”

“All unpacked,” Keith says and then Shiro’s arms are around him and lifting him up. Keith feels the hard granite slide under his backside as he lands and Shiro’s hands search over his back for the hem of his shirt.  They dip under the material and find the bare skin there.

“Guess you’re stuck with me now, huh?” Keith says it between heated breaths and wandering kisses. In the caress of Shiro’s touch, his worries seem to fade away and he lets them, at least for now. 

“Nothing I want more,” Shiro responds. Keith’s taller than him now with his extra height from the bench and he uses the advantage to cup Shiro’s cheeks and kiss down into his husband’s mouth.  A second later, he wraps his legs around Shiro’s waist and locks his ankles.

“I should give you a proper welcome,” Shiro murmurs and the deep timbre of his voice makes the hairs on the back of Keith’s neck stand up. His bionic hand slides away from his back, down his side to skim over the rapidly swelling bulge in Keith’s jeans.

“Oh?” Keith replies breathlessly. “What do you have in mind?” 

Shiro kisses him deeply before drawing back to smile against his lips. “There’s some brand-new sheets on the bed,” he whispers. “Want to go mess them up?”

It’s a short time later, when Shiro is buried to the hilt inside him and he’s arching back on the sheets as Shiro whispers _welcome home_ against his skin that Keith understands he really is.


	32. unpack your heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So self indulgent... (apologies if the overlap from this and last chapter is awkward)

Shiro tries to draw the conversation with Hunk out as long as possible but it’s a delicate balance between having a friendly chat and getting grilled and he’s falling too far on the side of getting grilled to be comfortable. Hunk tries to sound casual about it but Shiro’s been friends with him long enough to understand what he’s up to.

“So, Keith’s all moved in, huh?” Hunk says with a nonchalance that sets an alarm bell ringing at the back of Shiro’s mind.

“He’s unpacking as we speak. I’m just giving him some time to get used to the space without me hanging around.”

“And snoop?”

Shiro laughs at that. “And snoop, if that’s what he wants to do. He’s going to see it all eventually anyway.”

“Hope you put away all your love letters from past boyfriends,” Hunk says jovially and Shiro lets out a very undignified snort at even the concept. 

“Trust me, nothing like that lying around.”

There’s a lull in the conversation but a rustle and a tink on the other end of the line. It’s not unusual for Hunk to get distracted halfway through a conversation to continue on what ever project he was working on before the call started. Shiro’s used to it and he doesn’t take offense.

“So, are you guys still okay to tear yourselves away from your work tonight for dinner? Or are you working too hard again?” Shiro asks. He glances at his watch and sees it’s been a good twenty minutes or so now since he left Keith alone in his – _their_ \- bedroom to unpack.  Maybe that was enough.

“Working too hard, ha. That’s funny coming from you.”

They talk a little bit more until there’s a pale beep in the background of their call. “What was that?”

“Times up,” Hunk informs him. “You’ve had thirty minutes-“

“Wait, you timed our call?”

“What? Was… was that bad? I’ve got some _fa'apapa_ baking. Not gonna let it burn, man. Not even for you.”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“Like a kind of coconut bread my moms used to make when I was a kid. I’ll save you some.”

“Oh,” Shiro laughs in spite of himself. “Okay, sounds good. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Your shout, right?” Hunk hedges.  Shiro chuckles again.

“Lotor’s actually, so have at it.”

“All right!”

Hunk ends the call and it leaves Shiro staring out over the courtyard. He can hear the faint sounds of the neighbourhood around them, kids shouting and laughing, the drone of cars as they go down the street and a distantly a dog is barking. He wonders how much longer Keith might need before he pulls himself up to wander back inside. He heads straight to the kitchen and bangs around a little louder than necessary, just to let Keith know he’s no longer out on the patio.

It feels like a weird thing to do, he’s not used to having someone else in his space but at least it’s his.  He hadn’t given much thought to how it must feel for Keith, having to slot himself into someone else’s living space, someone else’s home. They’d seemed compatible enough at the bungalow but that hadn’t been a real-life environment, he still thought of it as their fantasy land. Here they wouldn’t have the same silent hotel staff lurking in the background where they would return to the bungalow to find the sheets changed, the space tided and their meals and anything else they might desire just a quick call to room service away.

Here though, he’s consciously aware of the very real chance that Keith is probably going to feel out of place, at least initially, and he’s going to have to get used to someone else in a space that had up until now, been only for him.  He had things exactly the way he wanted, he was comfortable, he was settled in. Whether Keith would eventually fell the same remained to be seen.

Shiro loved his townhouse but if Keith wanted to move somewhere new, he wasn’t sure he’d even hesitate. 

There’s that inkling again. That little kernel of truth that so far, he hadn’t been ready to look too closely at but that was becoming harder and harder to ignore. Sometimes his heart felt so swollen in his chest he wasn’t sure he could survive much longer without blurting it out and sharing it with the universe. It was ridiculous! It’s only been a week. How could he possibly label this as love so early on and why did he want to?

He’s not in the kitchen alone for long before he hears Keith’s footsteps on the stairs and a sudden wave of nerves hits him. The shuttered expression on Keith’s face makes his chest feel tight but he tries to hide it behind inane chatter. Keith barely responds aside from the odd nod or forced grunt and Shiro eventually trails off. 

It’s just teething issues, he tells himself. There’s bound to be some when two strangers come together like this, right? He has to turn himself away, unable to quite meet Keith’s eye at first. He’s too wary of what he might see there.

He’s grateful, and surprised, when it’s Keith who comes to him first. He hadn’t been expecting that.  He realises belatedly he’d been treating Keith the same way he’d treated Black when he first brought the cat home from the shelter… let him explore the place on his own terms, don’t crowd him, don’t approach first, be as unthreatening as possible. 

He realises how ridiculous it is when he feels Keith lean against him, his cheek nestled in the space between Shiro’s shoulder blades. He can feel the soft exhale of air through the material of his shirt and the tightness in his chest releases as he turns. He’s not sure how it’s possible but the fullness behind his breastbone seems to swell even more when Keith looks up at him warily and Shiro tucks Keith’s lean frame against him. 

It's not long after when he finally lures Keith upstairs.

Whatever he imagined in his mind the night before as they talked on the phone was absolutely nothing compared to the sight laid out in front of him and it takes him a few long moments for it to process because for the first time it hits him, _really_ hits him that Keith is finally here.

Keith, his husband, laid bare against the sheets and arching so prettily against his touch that Shiro never wants to forget the sight of him. His fantasy the night before couldn’t compare to the real thing. Keith is so beautiful it makes Shiro’s heartbeat stutter and his throat feel tight. He feels like he’s going to drown in the swell of his heart.

Shiro hovers over him now, propped up on one elbow to leave his other hand free. It’s slightly uncomfortable with the way the metal of his arm digs into the softer parts of his body but he barely feels it, focused as he is on the smooth lines of his husband’s body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers and Keith huffs faintly. He turns his face away even as a faint flush spreads over his cheeks.  “Oh,” Shiro laughs quietly then. There’s no reason to be so quiet, but somehow, they stay hushed and subdued.  “Modest too,” he teases.

“Shut up,” Keith mutters and he rolls onto his side, yanking a pillow to his face. Shiro doesn’t mind, in fact he follows and he ends up with Keith’s backside nestled perfectly against his groin. Shiro runs a wide palm up the length of Keith’s body and the slight tension in his frame eases.

“You are, you know,” Shiro tries again. He likes the way Keith gets antsy with the compliments, it’s endearing even as a small part of him aches inside that he’s never been told it enough before. Keith deserved to be worshipped, he deserved to be loved and touched and stroked in ways that would prove to him how much he was cared for.  “I’m going to tell you that every day.”

Keith doesn’t answer, not with his words. He shifts back slightly, wriggling enough that Shiro’s hard length is already sliding between the crease of his behind.  The movement makes Shiro’s breath catch sharply in his chest. He knows what Keith is doing, trying to distract him and he debates briefly of pulling back, until he realises he’s too hungry for Keith that he wouldn’t be able to even if he tried.

“You talk too much,” Keith gripes when Shiro murmurs more against his neck but Shiro can hear the smile in his voice. 

Shiro plants a soft kiss to the side of Keith’s neck, adding a gentle roll of his hips as he does so. It almost makes them both hiss at the contact and he leans back long enough to fumble with the top draw of his bedside table for the lube he stashed there.

“Oh, is that where we’re keeping it,” Keith says quietly on a breathy laugh and he shifts again, moving onto his back so that when Shiro leans over him, he’s pinned under Shiro beautifully.

“Unless you want it on your side,” Shiro answers. He’s distracted, busily dousing his hand, himself and Keith, who hisses again but this time in annoyance.

“A little warning,” he mutters. “It’s still cold.”

Shiro doesn’t answer beyond a quick apologetic kiss to the side of Keith’s neck. He flicks the tube away and it lands with a dull thud on the carpet. He shifts again, half on his side to prop his head on his bionic hand even as he curls his fingers around Keith’s length. Keith jolts slightly at the contact, especially when Shiro applies just the right amount of pressure to take away any lingering discomfort from the cold lube.

“Oh,” he gasps and then his eyes flutter closed and Shiro focuses on the way his dark eyelashes lie against cheek. He slides his palm upwards slowly, adding a slight twist to his movement. It’s just enough to make Keith’s breathing change. Keith arches slightly, tossing his head to the side and the column of his throat becomes bared in the afternoon sunlight. It’s beautiful and it reminds Shiro vividly of the languid days of their honeymoon, laid out naked together on the bed under the softly billowing white in their bungalow. He leans down to mouth at the skin of Keith’s shoulder, half expecting to taste the salt from sea.

But this? This was better. This was home. This was Keith in his bed, in his space, in his life and he steals an opened mouth, possessive kiss from Keith’s lips when he thinks about how easily they could have missed each other. One different answer on a test, one slight hesitation on an interview and they might never have been matched at all.

He doesn’t know if by some kind of cosmic force that his thoughts get translated to Keith but somehow Keith senses it and he leans harder into the kiss until he’s straining and the gentle sweeping touches from earlier turn possessive and demanding. Keith matches him in force, pushing back against him until Shiro realises Keith is challenging to take the lead and he has to pull away from the kiss long enough to give a slight shake of his head and flash his husband a sly grin.

“Nuh uh, baby.  I’m going to do this for you. I want to show you how happy I am to have you here.”

Keith’s breath hitches at that.  “Shiro-“ he tries to say but his voice is cut off by another gasp as Shiro rears up to take control. Almost instantly Keith goes weak and pliant, allowing himself to be guided into the position Shiro wants him and it’s only once Shiro settles between Keith’s thighs and pushes Keith’s legs over his shoulders that Keith starts to demand more.

Shiro stills him with the gentle weight of his bionic hand over one thigh. His other hand wanders down, searching and probing until he finds the place he needs. Keith becomes tense with anticipation and Shiro turns to brush his lips over the inside of his husband’s leg.

“Are you ready for me?” he asks, watching the way the afternoon light shifts over Keith’s face and the way his chest swells and sinks with each deep breath. His violet eyes are hidden behind his eyelids but his dark hair has fallen away from his face, exposing his sharp features. Shiro is once again struck by just how fiercely beautiful he is. “Keith,” he murmurs and he can’t quite seem to keep the emotion out of his voice.

Keith breathes out Shiro’s name, just as one hand creeps across the sheets to curl around himself and offer a few tugs.  Shiro hisses at the visual, sure that this vision alone had the power to make him loose himself all over Keith’s stomach before he can even get close to where he wants to be. He sucks in a shuddering breath and probes with a deeper urgency but Keith is still tense.

“Let me in, baby,” he whispers, offering more pressure and at the endearment, Keith sighs and the resistance melts away. Shiro croons softly, nonsensical words as he concentrates on the grip and slide of his fingers in Keith’s body, gently prepping him. He doesn’t need too much and Shiro pulls away only long enough to line himself up and then it’s a slow nudge that turns into something more insistent and demanding before he slides home with a low groan. The backs of Keith’s thighs against his chest tremble and Keith is gasping and holding himself tight enough that Shiro suspects he’s trying not to come. When Shiro’s fully seated, he croons again, gripping Keith’s thighs nuzzling a kiss to the inside of Keith’s knee. 

It's a hardship to keep himself still when Keith tries to rock himself. The drag of Keith’s tight body around him sends sparks firing behind his eyelids and he lets Keith think he has a modicum of control. Keith’s shifting against him, almost awkwardly because he can’t get the leverage he needs and the muscles of his stomach flex and tense as he tries to arch himself. It almost gets too much when Keith’s head tilts back and his hand moves faster over himself. He bites his lip even has Shiro hears him whimper out his name.

“Jesus, Keith,” he groans low and his control frays. He grips Keith’s hips, conscious enough to avoid the earlier bruising and draws back until he’s almost completely unsheathed. Keith’s eyes fly open and his hand stills, the confusion skittering across his features before the satisfied smile when he reads the promise in Shiro’s eyes. Shiro’s not going anywhere and he slides back home in one long glide until he starts to move in a way that has Keith shuddering and nonsensical.  Fuck, Keith is too good, he feels too good Shiro never wants it to end.

Keith whimpers, eyes squeezed shut even as one hand continues to slide over himself. He times himself to Shiro’s thrusts and Shiro adds his metal hand to the mix, laying it over Keith’s and adds to the pull and drag. Shiro is almost so focused on the way Keith bites his lips with each stroke and by the way he arches and cries out breathily that he almost misses the signs, almost misses how close to the edge Keith is skating.

He slips Keith’s legs downwards, forcing them around his waist a beat before he lunges forward and captures Keith’s mouth with his own, stealing away his breath. It’s almost rough the way Shiro takes him, but it’s an urgency he can’t contain and Keith matches him, throwing one arm around the back of Shiro’s neck and arching against him until the lines of their bodies meet and slide together in every possible way.

He’s never felt anything like this before, the way he wants to break himself wide open and tuck Keith in against him.  He feels weak and possessive all at once, fierce over the way he feels for Keith, petrified of what it will mean if he loses him.

Shiro tightens his embrace around his husband and brushes his lips against his cheek. It takes a few moments for him to catch his breath long enough to find a voice.  “Welcome home,” he says softly.

Keith goes still in his arms, just a moment before he clings to Shiro with a renewed urgency. He finds himself and palms himself harder, it’s his hand with his wedding ring and the sight of it against Keith’s skin makes his thoughts skitter in his mind until he can taste that link on the back of his tongue. He’s going to give Keith everything he can, starting right here with this.

Shiro increases his tempo, know that this is what Keith wants. Keith’s soft grunts are like music in his ears and then he’s virtually singing out Shiro’s name even as Shiro feels the hot splash against his chest and he snaps his gaze to Keith. Keith is reaching up, thumbing Shiro’s lips with the faintest echo of hesitation before Shiro locks gazes with him and parts his mouth enough to give Keith entrance. Keith’s eyes go dark in satisfaction when Shiro sucks the taste from his fingers, mouthing the spaces between his digits and lapping over the warmed metal of his wedding ring. Keith swears under his breath and his eyes drift shut as reluctantly pulls his hand away and Shiro makes a small sound at the loss. 

“Come on,” Keith whispers then. It takes a second for it to register in Shiro’s mind, he’s still lost on the taste of Keith on his tongue.  Keith’s eyes open and those violet depths are enough that Shiro feels mesmerized.  “Come on,” Keith urges him again and then Keith’s hands are on his ass and his heels are digging into the small of Shiro’s back.  “Fuck me,” and it’s a command Shiro doesn’t hesitate to spring into action. He almost bents Keith in half, slamming into him with a wildness he had been loathe to let himself feel for a long time. His pace is hard and vehement and Keith urges him on for more.

“Keith, baby,” he moans just as the heat draws up and he shatters, Keith’s voice in his ear purring and coaxing him further and when he’s spent, it takes everything he has not to collapse onto Keith like a dead weight. He manages to roll to the side instead.

“Holy fuck,” Keith says, a satisfaction ringing in his tone that’s unmistakable. “Just when I think it can’t get better, it does.”

Shiro tries to answer but he’s too weak and his tongue feels like cotton wool in mouth. He manages to smile though and Keith answers it with one of his own. Keith turns on his side until they’re face to face and for a moment, his gaze turns pensive and quiet and he reaches up to brush Shiro’s sweaty hair away from his face. He looks like he’s about to say something and Shiro waits curiously until Keith blinks and then he wonders if he imagined it when Keith looks past him.

Keith goes to roll away but Shiro finds the strength to draw him close and bundle him up against him. Keith protests weakly, complaining mildly about the sweat and slick starting to dry between them.

“We messed up the sheets,” he mutters and Shiro hums but he refuses to move. Keith huffs but his hands slide down over the skin of Shiro’s back. There’s some light stinging when Keith traces certain paths and it takes Shiro a few seconds to realise they are scratches from Keith’s blunt nails. 

Something about that makes him feel profoundly satisfied.

“I’ll change them later,” Shiro mumbles.

“We’re going to be late,” Keith tries again and this time Shiro lets him push him off as he slides off the bed and to the bathroom. It takes Shiro a few minutes to remember the dinner they were supposed to go to with their friends.

“Hmm,” he says distractedly, his eyes on Keith’s perfectly formed backside as he wanders into the ensuite. He knows Keith’s right, he should get up too but he can’t seem to find the energy. Keith just rocked his world a little too well to be able to stand for at least an hour.

He closes his eyes and lies back, one hand resting on skin of his stomach and listens to the sounds of Keith moving around in the other room and flicking on the shower.  The sound of the spray hitting the tiles eventually reaches him and he thinks he might have dozed because it feels like only a moment later when Keith is standing over him, damp and robed in nothing but a towel over his hips.  He’s got a look of amusement on his face.

“Did you fall asleep?” he asks then he grins when Shiro blinks at him. 

“I did all the work,” Shiro manages to mutter before he drags himself up. He tries to reach for Keith but Keith dances out of his reach too nimbly. 

“We’re going to be late,” Keith says again, laughing at Shiro’s drowsy state. He whips the towel off and dumps it over Shiro’s head before sashaying naked into the walk-in robe for his clothes. 

“Hey,” Shiro splutters but he pauses long enough to admire the naked sight of Keith’s body as he pulls out his outfit. His hair is wet and flopping down in his face as he tugs on his jeans and he huffs to himself before flipping it back.  He’s so striking Shiro is sorely tempted to cancel the dinner and stay in, just so he can have his gorgeous husband all to himself.  He admires the view for a split second longer before padding into the shower himself and soaping himself down. He’s a bit disappointed he didn’t get a chance to enjoy the shower with Keith but he supposed it served him right for dozing. 

Besides, if they’d shared a shower, they definitely wouldn’t be going anywhere tonight.

By the time he’s dressed, Keith is waiting for him downstairs, leaning against the kitchen counter and fiddling with his phone. He doesn’t have the open, relaxed look on his face Shiro was expecting and he wonders if he was getting those weird calls again.

“Ready?” he asks and then he has to disguise the way his breath catches in his throat when Keith walks over to him.  He slips his phone into his back pocket and absently spins the bracelet around his wrist.

“Yeah. I think so.” Keith tries for a smile but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.   

“Hey, you look good,” Shiro tells him softly and he does. His tight jeans leave little to the imagination when it comes to the delicious shape of Keith’s thighs and his beautifully fitted dark shirt lends a glows to his eyes that turns them into pools of velvet. Shiro recognizes the outfit, it’s one Keith wore on their honeymoon and the memories it brings back make him want to carry Keith back upstairs.

“So do you,” Keith says and he leans up even as he tugs on the back of Shiro’s neck to bring him in for a kiss. Shiro makes sure he takes the time to savour it, offering Keith an affection he may not be able to later. He should probably ask about that.

When Keith draws back, he looks calmer, like the kiss had settled something that had been previously off kilter. It helps Shiro feel a little more assured too because despite trying to take all this in his stride, in the deepest parts of him he still has… doubts.

“So, ah. Where do we stand on PDA’s?”

Keith seems momentarily confused.  “Public displays of affection,” Shiro clarifies and then Keith’s expression turns into a frown.

“I know what they are,” he says and his voice sounds a little bit hard.  “I just don’t know why you’re asking.”

“So, we’re on the same page,” Shiro replies. Was it the wrong thing to ask? They were about to see their closest friends with a brand-new relationship on display and while Shiro wasn’t bothered by attention, he suspected Keith might be.  He could sit on his hands if that’s what Keith wanted.

“Are you telling me you want me to keep my hands to myself?”  Keith crosses his arms and Shiro wants to sigh a million sighs inwardly when he realises the challenging glint in Keith’s eye. He’s spoiling for a fight and Shiro’s not sure why.

“No, I’m actually trying to tell you the opposite.”

That takes the wind out of Keith’s sails. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Shiro mocks and pulls him in, curling his metal arm around Keith’s waist in a vice like grip he couldn’t escape even if he wanted to. Keith makes it a little easier by pressing close and he lets Shiro comb his fingers through a few strands of his hair lovingly. 

“I’m proud to be with you,” Keith says quietly. “I’m not going to hide that.”

A sudden wave of emotion closes off Shiro’s throat and he has to pause to blink away something that feels suspiciously like moisture away from his eyes.  God, how… how did he get so lucky.  It was as though he’d laid out all his requests in a partner to the universe and it had delivered to him through the experiment this firecracker of a package that is Keith.  The scientists running the experiment had so much to answer for.

“Come on,” Keith says after a moment. He pulls back but he makes sure their hands are linked.  “We’re going to be late if we don’t get a move on.”

 

* * *

  
   
Keith whistles low as the garage lights flicker on and Shiro’s sleek black sports car is revealed.

“Nice ride,” he says and Shiro has to remind himself not to puff his chest out in pride. It was a nice ride, a black matte paintjob with smoked out taillights and huge glossy black rims. It squats low and vaguely menacingly before them.

“Thanks,” he says with a half-expressed shrug. He tries to sound casual about it but Keith’s smirk tells him he’s failed. He folds his arms and leans against the door jam as Keith walks himself around the car, one hand out as he slides it over the car’s bodywork.  Shiro isn’t sure if he’s faintly jealous or just turned on when he realises it’s the same way Keith touches him-  a smooth glide of his palm just over the surface. There’s a hungry admiration on his face and then a mental image of Keith bent over the hood makes him shift uncomfortably on his feet thanks to his swelling anatomy and too tight jeans.

“You know,” Keith says, taking his hand away from the car and stalking his way back to where Shiro leans against the doorway. Keith’s lean and lithe, graceful like a cat and the glint in his violet eyes is predatory enough that Shiro suddenly wishes they didn’t have their closest friends waiting for them in a restaurant uptown. How was it that this man had such an effect on him? Keith just had to glance at him sideways and Shiro was hot and hard and ready to give Keith anything he ever wanted. 

Would it always be like this? Or would the fire between them fade as the months or the years rolled on? Would they have enough between them to sustain their marriage if it did?

Keith comes to a stop in front of him, his head tilted slightly to the side. He’s tied his hair back against the nap of his neck but it still leaves loose strands around his forehead and cheeks and it’s soft and silky from their shower.  Shiro knew Keith kept it like that as a way to shelter himself, as though he could hide behind his dark tresses when the emotion flared too brightly in his eyes but Shiro always had the urge to smooth it back. He wanted to see Keith’s face, to see his eyes wearing whatever emotions were rolling through him. He wanted everything Keith had to give him.

“You okay?” Keith asks him quietly.  Shiro blinks then forces a smile. 

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m just thinking how good you would look bent over the hood with your pants around your ankles.”

Keith barks out a laugh, caught off-guard by Shiro’s descriptive visual. He can’t help but grin when Keith steps closer and slides his arms around him, grabbing his backside to grind their hips together. Keith leans in, his breath hot against Shiro’s jaw and Shiro catches the lightest whiff of strawberry under Keith’s aftershave. His husband uses strawberry shampoo when he’s at home, who would have thought.

“Funny, I was thinking that about you too,” Keith says against his ear and it has Shiro chuckling deep in his chest. “You’d look so pretty with your face pressed against that black paint while I have my way with you.”

Shiro hisses, both at the low purr of Keith’s voice and the mental imagery behind his eyes. Since Keith had discovered what it was like to have Shiro inside him, it was all he wanted but Shiro craved Keith in him too. Next time, he promised himself.  Next time he’ll let Keith do just what he’s promising.  “Jesus Christ.”

Keith snickers as he steps away and strolls casually over to the passenger side. He places one hand on the car door and raises an eyebrow expectantly.  Shiro can’t hear anything aside from the blood rushing in his skull.  “Well? Ready to go?”

“I need to update my will,” Shiro mutters as he pushes away from the wall and goes to the driver’s side. Keith frowns at him. “You’re going to kill me,” Shiro informs him and Keith laughs to himself again.


	33. look at me now, I'm falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang is back together & I have no idea what I'm doing ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> akjsdhkasjh this kind of chapter is not my strength  
> warning: self indulgent allurance and hidge in the background
> 
> If moodboards are your thing, there is one for this chapter (in particular) [ here ](https://sheithmafsau.tumblr.com/post/173060630496/ch33-inspomoodboard)  
> Also, special shoutout to Jo (Joking5 on tumblr) for the beta on this one <33.

The black car inches its way out onto the street and Shiro steers it sedately through the neighbourhood. Once on the expressway though, he lets it have its legs and the car leaps forward like an angry metal cat. Keith grins appreciatively at the acceleration as Shiro brings it up to speed and he settles back into the curved seats even as he stares at the array of clearly non-standard glowing readouts, gauges and buttons that line the dash. 

“It’s like a spaceship in here,” he mutters. 

Shiro grins but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “That’s courtesy of Hunk.”

“Of course it is. What does this do?” Keith asks, gesturing to a switch that doesn’t seem to have any real business doing where it is. “Launch a missile like some kind of spy car?”

Shiro laughs at that. He looks relaxed and comfortable behind the wheel, the cool yellow lights illuminating the expressway in the darkness slide over his face in wide bars as he drives. “I have no idea. Who knows with Hunk? Though it’s Pidge that’s more into the fireworks.”

“And that?” Keith points to another button. 

Shiro shrugs. “Oh, wait. Hit this one.”

The sudden burst of pop music blares loud enough to make them both wince and Shiro swears as he turns down the dial.  “No, shit. Not that one.”  Keith snickers as Shiro fumbles for a button blindly, still staring straight ahead. “This one, I think.”

He flicks it… and nothing happens. Keith is decidedly unimpressed.

“Wow,” he deadpans. “Incredible.”

Shiro takes a second to shoot him an amused glance. “Look in the side mirror, smartass.”

Keith raises an eyebrow but glances over like Shiro suggests. Under the car, strips of purple neon light up the asphalt as it flashes by underneath.

“Oh my god,” he mumbles incredulously but he’s grinning too because Shiro looks kind of smug and it’s so attractive on him that Keith’s heart does that now familiar little flipflop in his chest. He traces the line of Shiro’s profile with his eyes as he drives and thinks about all the ways he wants to worship that jawline later.

“Keep looking at me like that and we’re probably going to end up more than just fashionably late,” Shiro says mildly. His lips quirk as though he’s trying to hold back a laugh.

“Late,” Keith snorts. “Still think we should have stayed home.”

“We have plenty of time for that.”

“I hope you’re prepared for this,” Keith says dryly, a few minutes later. “I have a feeling all bets will be off.”

Shiro slides him an amused glance then. He holds the wheel with one hand as the other gropes for Keith’s palm then entwines their fingers together. Without looking away from the road stretched out in front of the car, he raises their joined hands to his lips to brush a light kiss over the back of Keith’s palm then he lowers it back down.

“I wonder who’s going to give us the worst time? Matt or Lance?” Shiro asks. “Matt has about the social tact of an elephant but he’s mostly harmless.”

“Unlike Lance, who will know exactly what he’s doing,” Keith mutters.  Shiro gives his hand a squeeze before he lets go completely to put both hands back on the wheel.  “He’ll probably be going for maximum carnage,” Keith says with ill-concealed dread.

“Watch out for Hunk too,” Shiro adds. “He knows how to get you without you even realising and he won’t let up easily.”

“This is going to be a bloodbath,” Keith groans. There’s a few beats of anxious silence as the street lights flash by. There are butterflies in his stomach now, threatening to turn into something wilder and uglier. He’s really not sure why he’s suddenly feeling like this.  “We’re going to do like at the wedding though, right?” he presses suddenly. 

Shiro tilts his head. The soft smile he’d been sporting flips into a delicately confused frown. “What do you mean?”

“A united front. Right?”

“Keith,” Shiro releases his name on a relieved exhale. “Yeah, of course. They’re our friends, they love us. They just want us to be happy.”

“It’s going to be weird to be the centre of attention again. They’re going to….” Keith feels his cheeks go pink and Shiro notices his hesitation. Keith manages to clear his throat and continue. “They’re going to want to know _everything.”_

Everything. And unlike Honerva, it’s probably not going to be framed anywhere near as politely as _have you been intimate._   No, Lance is probably going to pin him down with toothpicks under his nails until he spills the whole sordid honeymoon and then he’s probably going to want to know about the fluffy handcuffs and Keith makes a mental note to stab him with a fork if he even so much as breathes in Keith’s direction.

The sound of Shiro’s chuckle draws out of his fantasy.

“Maybe we need a safe word…. You know, if it gets too much and we want to bail. It always pays to have an exit strategy,” Shiro says it so mildly, yet Keith can’t help but feel a twisted claw scrape at the inside of his skull at that. 

An exit strategy. Well, thanks to Honerva he has one.

“A safe word? Like what?”

“Hmm,” Shiro hums.  He glances into the rear-view mirror then they’re switching lanes and exiting off the highway. Keith’s butterflies become violent and begin to thrash so hard against his stomach he’s briefly wondering if he’s about to be sick over the footwell of Shiro’s fancy car.  He sucks in a deep breath, full of the comforting scent of his husband’s cologne and holds the images it invokes behind his eyelids. Shiro smiling at him, Shiro touching him, Shiro kissing him… He holds onto that and then the fluttering starts to fade just in time for Shiro to navigate the streets and pull into the restaurant’s valet parking.

Because of course, this restaurant would be upmarket enough for that.

“I think you should choose,” Shiro grins and Keith casts around frantically in his mind for a word that might be suitable.

He looks at Shiro, cool and confident, dressed impeccably and piloting this ridiculous beast of a car and he’s once again abruptly thinking of some kind of spy movie.

“Martini,” he blurts.

“I hope you’re not planning on ordering one, or that might get confusing,” Shiro laughs then pulls Keith in for a quick kiss when Keith scowls.  “Okay, martini it is.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro hands over the keys to the valet and takes the ticket, pocketing it before reaching for Keith’s hand. He’s in a good mood, looking forward to a good night out with their friends and savouring the fact that this is really going to be the first chance he has on home soil to parade about this gorgeous man he’s married.

It’s shallow, he knows, to be so focused on the way Keith looks tonight but damn, if he doesn’t look almost as good as he did just a few hours ago, splayed naked on the sheets in their bed, his skin flushed and breath choppy as he called out Shiro’s name-

“Shiro?” the man in question is looking at him now, thick brows slightly furrowed and an odd twist to his mouth that tells Shiro that Keith is just this side of nervous. He has to physically resist the urge to haul him close and kiss him senseless, he just looks that good.

He takes Keith’s hand instead, his heartbeat almost grinding to a stop when Keith shoots him a soft, grateful look from under his fringe. Shiro’s fingers itch with the urge to smooth it back away from Keith’s face, so he can see those bright indigo eyes clearly but settles for offering a squeeze of his fingers instead.

“Are you ready?” Shiro asks and Keith nods once.  “Remember the safe word,” Shiro whispers against his ear and he puts a lick of playful seduction over the words.  It makes Keith rolls his eyes and then Shiro is heading into the restaurant with Keith’s hand tucked securely in his.

The restaurant also doubles as a bar and it’s obvious as soon as they step inside.  Warm tones of rich crimson and burnt orange colour the walls, edged in tones of gold and infused with the scent of flavoured smoke (grape perhaps) and the brightly patterned floors lead them over to the bar area.  The establishment perches on the river front, one side of it facing the city on the other side of the river, the other leads out to the restaurant section, private dining pervaded with the buzz of chatter and laughter and the faint chinks of glasses tapping together. There’s a distinctive Moroccan vibe to the restaurant, Shiro realises once the music leaks its way into his ears and in the press of people, he uses his height to see if he can spy any familiar faces in the crowd.

He doesn’t see them but Keith is pulling on his hand, leading him away from the bar and into the quieter area of elegant white clothed tables and flickering candles. 

Their table isn’t ready yet but Lance and Allura find them before they have a chance to wonder exactly how late or early they are. Lance, as impeccably dressed in a white dress shirt rolled up against his forearms and a popped collar as he was the last time Shiro saw him at the wedding, goes straight to Shiro, pulling him into a surprised hug first while Keith shoots Lance a dirty look at the back of his head. It turns out Lance just wanted to get the quicker embrace out of the way first because once he releases Shiro and latches onto Keith, he doesn’t let go for a full minute, mock-sobbing into Keith’s ear how much he missed him.

Shiro has to laugh at the sight and Allura, once again resplendent in a short, slim fitting dress in the palest of pinks that make the deep tones of her skin glow beautifully, loops her arm with his and smiles up at him. 

“Welcome home, Shiro. It’s lovely to see you again.”

“Thank you, Allura. I bet you wondered if you would,” he grins. Something about Allura speaks to him and he feels immediately comfortable in her presence, as though she was a kindred spirit.  Although, maybe it was just the way they both eyed Keith trying to disengage from Lance’s hug and the stubborn way Lance refused to let him go until Keith finally stomps on his foot. Maybe they were just the only adults in the room, Shiro thinks to himself with a grin.

“It may surprise you to know that I never doubted it for a second,” she says with a regal smile and he has to defer to her without argument. He can’t help it. Allura was all grace and poise, she definitely had to be some kind of royalty in another life.

“Never doubted what?” Lance says as he inches to her side having finally released Keith. Lance curls his arm around her waist and she lets Shiro go with a warm pat on his metallic arm before turning in towards Lance who proceeds to bury his face into the mass of pale platinum curls that rest against her shoulders. 

“That we would be seeing Shiro again,” Allura answers. She tucks herself into Lance’s side comfortably as Keith slides closer to Shiro.

“As if there was any doubt,” Lance says with a sniff.  Then he grins and waves into the crowd.  “Hunk!”

“Lance!”

Shiro expected Hunk to be the first to push through the crowd towards them but instead it’s Pidge leading the charge. She’s small but something about the glint in her eye makes people step out of her way without preamble as they cross the room.  Keith eyes her with a little bit in confusion, her previous flowy green dress from the wedding now replaced with tight black, ripped jeans and a sheer bodysuit on heels sharp enough to be lethal.  Her hair is pulled back by a headband and her eyes sparkle determinedly through her round glasses as Hunk lumbers in a flowery patterned shirt full of earthy tones behind her.

Shiro is happier than he expected to see them.

There’s more hugs all around, Hunk and Lance give each other some kind of complicated greeting involving fists and mock explosions and then they’re being led to the table that waits for them, tucked away in its own private alcove with a small courtyard.  It’s not lost on him that the table is set for seven and he wonders briefly if they’re going to see Matt or if he still has his nose stuck in a project somewhere.

They settle in around the table, and the general chatter is flowing easily over the music that leaks in from the bar area, nothing but a sheer curtain to hide their table from the rest of the establishment. It’s a fun atmosphere, made even more enjoyable by the very obvious way Lance and Hunk have fallen back into the easy cadence of their childhood friendship.

A waiter appears at Shiro’s elbow and they turn to Allura first to take her order.

“Hmm,” Allura taps her chin delicately as she scans the menu before finally making her selection.  “Oh, and I’ll also have an expresso martini, please.”

Shiro leans over to Keith, closer than he probably needs to. He makes a point to send his breath skittering over his husband’s neck as he clears his throat slightly. 

“What do you think, Keith. Do you need a martini too?”

Keith snickers quietly, turning his head a little.  Its’s enough that Shiro could brush his lips against Keith’s cheek with hardly any effort at all.  

“Not right now,” Keith murmurs and then he stiffens when realises Lance is staring at them.  “What?”

“What… What was that?” Lance demands, pointing between the two of them. He comes just short of jabbing Keith in the chest and Shiro leans back in case Keith decides to retaliate. “Was that a private joke between you? That was, wasn’t it? Oh my god, babe-“ Lance taps on Allura’s hand excitedly to get her attention. “They have inside jokes,” Lance continues, almost giddy. “It’s official. This marriage is real. My work here is done-“

“Shut up, Lance,” Keith laughs and then he ducks his face. Shiro laughs too, draping his arm across the top of Keith’s chair when he notices the palest flush on Keith’s cheeks. The blushes had toned down since the start of their honeymoon but in the presence of their friends, they’ve reappeared with a vengeance and Shiro can’t help but be charmed by it. 

Keith’s eyes slide to his once Lance turns his attention away and for a brief moment, it’s just them. 

The look they share is warm and private and Shiro watches Keith’s emotions unfold on his face. God, he loves that about him. Keith is like an open book when he looks at Shiro like this, full of heat and yearning and something so powerful it’s like drowning and coming back to life. There’s no mistaking the invitation in his eyes when he looks at Shiro like this and Shiro doesn’t stop to think about how their friends are on the other side of the table when he tilts his husband’s chin up with one metallic finger then leans forward to slant his lips over Keith’s softly.

There’s a hoot from around the table and Keith pulls back long enough to shoot Lance a glare that by all rights should have singed the hair from his head but only makes him hoot louder. Keith starts to laugh in embarrassment and Shiro reaches for one of the large menus. He flips it up and holds it to shield their faces. He kisses Keith again, this time with slightly more force and he’s pleased when Keith smiles into the kiss.

“I hope you realise this is the last night we’re going to tolerate this kind of behaviour,” Lance demands. He slaps the table for emphasis. “Only because you’re newlyweds.”

“What are you talking about,” Keith challenges once they finally break apart from their kiss and Shiro puts down the menu. “I had to put up with you and Allura mooning at each other for _months.”_

“I beg your pardon,” Allura makes a dramatic face and places her hand against her chest as though insulted. She’s not, Shiro can see the laughter in her eyes and Keith plays along.

“It’s true, Allura,” Keith informs her seriously. “There was _a lot_ of mooning.”

“Yes, but not from me.”

“No, it was all Lance.” 

Allura looks slightly mollified by that.

“Hey, how could I not have fallen in love with this beautiful princess that _literally_ fell into my arms?” Lance stresses.  “It was fate, destiny. All that jazz-”

“Dude,” Keith interrupts. “You left your medkit in the middle of the hallway and tripped her.”

“Totally planned that,” Lance insists and they all laugh until Lance has to wipe a fake tear from one eye dramatically. “She was so mad at me.”

“She grabbed him by the ear and dragged him down the hallway into the supervisor’s office,” Keith tells Shiro helpfully.

“Workplace brutality,” Lance nods then sighs dreamily. “It was great.”

“You let him off easy,” Pidge comments to Allura. “I would have tasered him.”

“Believe me, I did consider it,” Allura replies sagely. Lance grumbles something under his breath.

“But it all worked out in the end, huh?” Shiro says with a smile. It’s been cute and a little bit sweet to learn a little of history between Lance and Allura, considering they are Keith’s two closest friends.  They’re important to Keith so they’ve become important to him too.

“Yes,” Allura says tenderly and then she shifts from her seat and into Lance’s lap where he welcomes her happily. The tone around the table changes into something soft when she loops her arms around his neck.  He grins at her and they share a look full of love and devotion it makes something in Shiro’s own chest pang in response. Even Keith leans into him at the sight. The affection between Lance and Allura is sweet and natural and there’s something freeing in the way Lance is so unashamedly in love with the woman in his arms. There’s no weakness in it for him, just something to be immensely proud of and treasure.

Shiro looks down at his husband, only to find Keith already looking back at him with an inviting smile.

 

* * *

 

“No, no, no,” Lance says a short time later, throwing up his hands. There turns out to be some kind of drama in the kitchen that delays their meals but Keith is happy to nibble on the starters and just enjoy the company of their friends.  Mostly.  He narrows his eyes at Lance across the table. 

“Don’t ask Keith,” Lance continues. “He couldn’t crack a joke if he tried.”

“Hey,” Keith protests but Shiro rubs his shoulder, partly to soothe him, partly to pull him close as though to defend him. It gives Keith the odd sensation that they’ve melded into a single entity.  Three couples around the table and he’s almost glad on Matt’s behalf he hadn’t made it. “I can do jokes.”

“A shout out to the sidewalk for keeping you off the streets is not a joke, Keith.”

“That’s right,” Keith levels his butter knife at Lance and waves it threateningly.  “It’s not.”

Lance frowns.  “What? No, no. Keith. Let Shiro have a turn.”

Against Keith’s side, he feels Shiro suck in a breath.

“Pressure’s on now, Shiro!” Hunk calls out.  Shiro waves him down with a metal hand.

“Okay, I got this. Hang on-“

“We’re waiting, Shiro,” Allura teases.  “Come on.”

Keith feels Shiro starting to laugh.  He mumbles something to himself in a dramatic rendition of psyching himself up for a battle.  Keith and the rest of the table watch on in amusement as Shiro closes his eyes to centre himself, mutters something about _patience_ and _focus_ and then he takes a deep breath.  When his eyes open, they’re clear and intense and a little bit hard, even if his lips are still twitching with barely contained laughter.  Keith wonders briefly if he’s going to have to confiscate Shiro’s keys.  He’s pretty sure Shiro’s only had one alcoholic drink tonight but he’s giddy enough to make Keith think he’s going to have to be the one to drive home.  Not a hardship really, not with that beast parked outside.

“Why can’t you use beef stew as a password?”  Shiro asks, then pauses for a beat. The rest of the table eyes him expectantly but Keith is already fighting back a snicker. “Because it’s not stroganoff- hey!”

The entire table erupts into groans and Shiro protests.  “Come on, that was _gold_ ,” and Hunk leans over to thump him good naturedly against his shoulder.

“A tech and food joke combined into one, I like it.”

That makes Shiro laugh and he catches Keith’s eye then.  Keith shakes his head but his cheeks already hurt from smiling.

“Okay, I hate myself for laughing at that,” Keith says under his breath and Shiro tugs him close.  Lance makes a crack about at least one of them having a sense of humour and Keith pulls a face.

“Come on, mullet,” Lance finally announces a short time later.  “Let’s get some more drinks since apparently we’re going to be here a while.”

“Where’s the foooood,” Hunk moans.  “I should go in there and start cooking myself.”

Lance kicks his chair lightly. “Hey, did you hear me?”

“It’s table service here,” Keith frowns.

“No, ugh. No, Captain Oblivious, unless you want me to gossip right here in front of your husband?

“What? No.”

“Hey,” Shiro mutters faintly but Pidge materializes on his other side, tugging on his sleeve to steal his attention.  Keith catches a glimpse of something technical looking dismantled on the tablecloth but he doesn’t bother to ask.

Keith follows Lance over to the bar and they perch at a one of stools. Lance orders them something Keith can’t catch over the music and once they have their drinks, they head outside to the balcony where the music is muted and the breeze flows down the river.  Keith’s ears ring a little from the noise so he appreciates the break.

“So…” Lance starts expectantly. Keith can feel Lance eying him like some sort of specimen on a job he’s not sure if he needs to bag up to send along with the patient. Keith pretends not to notice.

“So.”

“So?! Come on, Keith. Give me something here. You guys look like you’ve been together for years! No-one would know you’d only met a week ago, at your wedding-“

“Will you keep it down?” Keith hisses, glancing sideways at a few other people loitering nearby also enjoying the fresh air.  He really didn’t feel like getting into the whole scenario with curious strangers, but then maybe he was overestimating his own importance. No-one would really care, would they?

“You look really comfortable together,” Lance finishes off, this time quieter. Keith slides him a glance, waiting for a punchline or an insult but nothing is forthcoming. 

He shrugs then takes a sip of his drink, more to stall than anything.  “Yeah,” he says after a moment. “Yeah, we are. Who would have thought this science stuff actually works?”

“Pfft, I would,” Lance informs him confidently and gives him a nudge. “You owe me for eternity now.”

Keith scoffs and gives a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Consider us even for the fluffy handcuffs, you jerk.”

“Are you still mad about that? Come on,” Lance complains. “You loved it. Did Shiro love them? Bet he’s into that kinky shit, huh? The big ones always are-“

“Annnd, we’re done here,” Keith says flatly as he turns away to head back inside.

Lance trails behind laughing into his drink.

 

* * *

 

Shiro watches Lance and Keith out of the corner of his eye as they wander over to the bar then outside.  He’s got a good view from his seat at the table and he absently admires the lean lines of his husband even as Pidge chats animatedly beside him. She knows he’s only half listening so she punches him lightly on the arm to get his attention. At least she thumped his human side.

“Are you listening to me, or are you still ogling your husband’s ass?”

“Katie, hearing you say ass will never feel like something I can get used to.”

“What are you talking about?” she grins. “I call you an ass all the time.”

“You do?”

“Sure. Just not to your face.”

“It’s true, man,” Hunk pipes up. “She does.”

Shiro figures the only way to respond to that is to laugh and Pidge grins widely at him before she scowls and taps him with one sharp nail against the centre of his chest.

“You know, for someone as smart as you, you can be pretty dumb.”

Shiro blinks, not quite sure where she’s going with the sudden change of direction. “Ah-“

“Why do you still have a dating app on your phone? Aren’t you past that now? Or are you and Keith polygamous and this is the first I’m hearing about it?”

“I… what?”

“Maybe they just want to spice things up,” Hunk adds. “Don’t judge, babe.”

“Wait,” Shiro scrambles to follow the conversation. “What?”

Pidge carefully places his phone down onto the table in front of him. It’s unlocked and open on the screen is an app displaying the icon of something wholly unfamiliar but that scratches the edges of his memory anyway.

“Hunk found it when we installed the new application to help with your arm. How long has it been there?”

“Shit,” he mutters and his stomach drops into his expensive leather shoes. “I don’t even remember downloading that. I haven’t looked at it for over a year at least.”

“I sure hope Keith didn’t see it,” Pidge says with a shrug and a very pointed look.

Because how the hell would that have looked? Dating apps on his phone when he’s on his honeymoon celebrating his newly minted marriage? Not good. Definitely not fucking good.

He tries to think back to the morning after the tech in his arm went a little screwy. It was only a few days ago but so much had happened, so much had changed it takes him a little while to go into the memory. Did Keith give any indication he saw it? What must he have thought?  He feels sick just thinking about it.

“I didn’t use it,” he says lamely and even Hunk winces at the feebleness of the response.

“If he had to access your phone to reach us, there’s a pretty solid chance he saw it. You might want to talk to him about it,” Pidge leans back in her chair. 

“No way,” Hunk protests.  He drops the strange bit of tech he has in his hands with a clatter to the table. It makes Shiro wince at the sound. “Maybe he didn’t see it.”

“He can’t just… pretend it wasn’t there,” Pidge snaps back.  Hunk is shakes his head.

“But if he didn’t notice it before, don’t draw his attention to it now. Has he said anything?”

Shiro again tries to hunt through his memory but once again he comes up blank. His insides feel like they’ve been coated in an oil slick and a gargoyle of dread seems to have taken up residence on his shoulder. “He hasn’t said anything but… but I don’t think he’s even let on that he _did_ see anything. Maybe it’s just nothing and if I delete it now that will be the end of it?”

Pidge looks unconvinced and the glance she exchanges with Hunk tells him he’s not buying it either.

“Well, unless you’re planning to make use of it, delete it.”

Shiro doesn’t hesitate.

 

* * *

 

Keith had every intention of heading back to the table after his and Lance’s aborted attempt to have a heart to heart but once they get close to the bar, Lance drags him back over and deposits him onto one of the stools. By this point, Keith has given up trying to argue with him. Lance is good at whittling down his resistance on a good day but when he’s got a few drinks under his belt, he’s impossible to escape. Keith had long ago learned when to save his energy and when to quarrel back. 

The press of people around the bar area of the restaurant seems busier, a lot of the patrons doing just what Lance and Keith have done and wandered out in search of a liquid meal. Some people were leaving, others complaining loudly but for the most part, it was still a good place to be.

“Hey, so that guy over there is staring at you,” Lance grins with a jerk of his head.

Keith frowns, and looks up without meaning to, glancing around at the other side of the bar. His gaze travels over the blur of faces there, heavily shadowed despite the rich neons in yellow and red that line the walls.  He barely takes any of it in, not recognising any of the faces and not particularly interested until his gaze skims past a distinctive flash of silver on the bar top and a patch of white reflecting the colours of a sunset.

His vision stops, then slides back and he finally registers his husband on the opposite side of the bar, leaning casually and looking utterly beautiful in that tailored blazer and form fitting white shirt. It was a delicious kind of torture to know how those broad muscles looked under that shirt and how they felt around him and not be able to do a damn thing about it from here. He almost frowns and motions to beckon him over until he realises Shiro isn’t actually looking at him.

He’s half turned away, chatting pleasantly with two women Keith doesn’t recognize but despite his conversation with them, Keith can see the now familiar slight twitch of his lips and then there’s a sly sideways glance as he looks over the bar to catch Keith’s gaze.

Keith has to fight back a grin when Shiro raises his eyebrows in greeting ever so slightly, continuing to chat to the two women that have squished themselves close to him. One of them looks down at his bionic hand resting on the flat surface of the bar and she goes to touch it but Shiro notices her intention and moves before she can.  Keith watches with curiosity and something else in his chest he refuses to acknowledge as a pang of jealousy when Shiro shifts and turns into the bar to wave over the bartender.  Keith notices the flash of Shiro’s wedding band at the same time as the woman does and she all but pouts. 

 _Yeah, that’s right,_ he thinks smugly. _He’s taken._

“Is it weird that you guys missed out on this part?” Lances asks then. It takes Keith a minute to tear his gaze away from where Shiro is and back to his friend.  “Hello? Earth to Keith?”

“Huh? What part?”

“This,” Lance says, waving his hand around as though encompassing the room and Shiro on the other side of the bar.  “Seeing someone you think is cute from across the room then the whole dance of are they available, are they not, then the flirting, the courting, _the wooing-“_

“When have I ever done that?” Keith rolls his eyes but Lance does make a valid point. 

It’s not something that bothers him but he wonders if Shiro missed the excitement and drama of the courting process and dating in general. They’d essentially bypassed all of it. Keith preferred it that way, he didn’t have the patience or time for the emotional games but some people found it exciting.  He much preferred to know where he stood from the beginning and that’s exactly what he got with the experiment.

Still, it made him wonder if they hadn’t been matched in the experiment, if they had just been two guys out with their friends one night, on opposite sides of a bar… would they have noticed each other? Would there have been a secret smile, the inviting gaze, would one of them been brave enough to approach the other? Or would they have just gone home, just a fleeting fantasy of what if, never to see each other again.

“Hmm, point taken,” Lance shrugs just as the bartender stops in front of them and slides a drink towards Keith.

“From the gentleman over there,” he says as he jerks his finger and Keith has to bite back his grin.

“Oh,” Lance laughs. “Smooth.”

The bartender melts back into his work and Keith picks up the drink. He knows what it is as soon as he sees it, a mojito with fresh lime and mint, the one they’d had most often while on their honeymoon.  Keith knows it because he remembers sucking the taste of mint off Shiro’s tongue.

He glances up from under his hair to find Shiro eying him even as he’s being talked at by the two women and Keith lifts his chin to nod in thanks. Shiro’s mouth splits into a grin but he tones it back quickly enough and then he’s leaning into the women to say something private before slipping away from the bar.  Keith loses sight of him in the crowd but he materializes behind him a few seconds later.

“Hi,” he grins, but he doesn’t make a move to come closer. Keith guesses he’s expected to play along.

“Hi,” he says back, then gestures to his drink. He tries to keep a straight face even if he’s wincing on the inside.  “Thanks for the drink.”

Keith’s aware of Lance watching them with interest before he realises what’s going on. 

“Oh, okay, that’s my cue to leave,” he moves to head past Shiro but taps him on the shoulder before he passes.  “Have him home by midnight, okay. Turns into a pumpkin otherwise.”

Keith sends Lance a filthy look that earns him a double thumb up and a _go get him, tiger_ and then he’s trying to decide if he’s amused or embarrassed at what’s happening right now.

Honestly, this really wasn’t his scene. He got married to avoid this shit.

But then Shiro slides closer, leaning casually against the bar with one elbow and angling himself into Keith’s personal space. He’s so obviously trying to fight back a laugh while trying to project a suave air it makes Keith cringe in definite embarrassment. He takes a sip of his drink to compose himself.

“Come here often?” Shiro asks and the light dancing in his eyes has Keith’s lips twitching. He knows what a real seduction looks like from Shiro and this pale imitation has him wanting to double over. He tries to compose himself though and clears his throat. He could play along, this was Shiro, Shiro who already wore his ring on his finger, what was the worst that could happen.

“Nope,” he says, lips still twitching.  “First time.”

“Me too,” Shiro says with a straight face.  “I’m here with my friends,” and Shiro turns to wave at Lance, Hunk, Pidge and Allura where they were all huddled together on a couch against the far wall having abandoned their table. They were watching on with rabid interest and Keith starts to suspect Lance and Shiro might well have planned this in advance. Lance looks like he’s especially enjoying the show but at Shiro’s wave, they all pull apart and pretend to look elsewhere.

Keith still kind of wants to sink into the floor but he catches the humour in Shiro’s eye and leans into it. “They look familiar, do I know them?”

“Hmm, maybe.” 

They both watch as their friends find other things to look at. All of them except for Lance who gives up trying to be covert and makes a kind of _get on with it_ gesture with his hands.

“The one in the white shirt looks annoying,” Keith finally says and that makes Shiro let out a bark of laughter. Keith grins innocently when he catches the narrowed expression on Lance’s face.

“He gave me some tips that I should try out on you though,” Shiro adds conversationally. He takes the glass from Keith’s hand and takes a sip, all while his eyes never leave Keith’s. It’s on the tip of Keith’s tongue to warn him about too many drinks if he’s driving later but he loses track of that thought when Shiro hands the glass back and licks his lips.

“Do you want to hear them?” Shiro is saying.

“What?” Keith has to blink and backtrack to remember what they were talking about.  Oh. Lance. And his tips.  This should be good.  “So, what did he tell you?”

“He gave me a stellar pick up line. Want to hear it?” 

Keith is trying not to laugh again. If the line is from Lance, it’s going to be awful.  He manages to keep a straight face. Barely.  “Let’s hear it.”

Shiro leans in a little closer. His bulk makes Keith feel small and smothered and he just wants to curl himself against Shiro’s chest but he remembers the game they’re playing. He might as well enjoy it. In a real-world scenario, if anyone had tried this on him he would have left so fast there would have been skid marks left behind.

Keith waits patiently, his face tilted upwards towards his husband’s, their lips barely a breath apart.  He wants to kiss him but the bar is busy with patrons and while he’s become a lot more comfortable with pda’s with Shiro since their wedding day, he still has a little way to go.

“No,” Shiro says abruptly and leans back. “Nope. Sorry, I can’t do it. It’s too awful.”

Keith sends Shiro an exasperated and highly annoyed look a split second before he rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his drink. His taste buds are immediately flooded with the mixture of sweetness, lime and mint and for a moment in his mind, he’s transported back to their bungalow on the beach watching the waves kiss the shore.

“Tease,” he mutters.

Shiro smiles at him then he leans close again, this time lining his lips up with Keith’s ear. Just the warmth of him is enough to send a shiver skittering over Keith’s frame.

“Why don’t you try?” Shiro all but waggles his eyebrows at him.

“No. This isn’t my thing, remember? This is why I had to resort to an experiment to find a life partner.”

“Life partner, huh? Does this mean you’ve stopped stressing about Honerva’s deadline?” Shiro eyes him with interest then and just like that, they're back to just being themselves. Keith wants to breathe a sigh of relief that the game is over.

“You make it easy,” Keith confesses after a moment. Shiro seems to like that.

“Good,” Shiro pulls him close and their foreheads touch. In that moment, Keith forgets where they are, who might be watching and his world shrinks until it’s just them and Shiro is curling their fingers together. He’s about to haul Shiro down for a kiss when Lance appears nearby and announces their meals are finally ready.

Shiro leads him still holding his drink away from the bar, his wide hand warm and possessive on the small of Keith’s back.  “Oh,” Shiro leans in to say. “There’s something you should know… I don’t put out on the first date.”

Keith almost chokes on his drink.

“Wait, is… is that Lotor?” Lance demands as they approach their table to find Matt pulling up an extra chair. Lotor sits beside him, looking faintly uncomfortable. 

“Hey, guys.” Matt smiles then jerks a thumb at Lotor.  “Found this guy lurking outside and felt bad for him.  Now I don’t have to be the seventh wheel with all these couples.”

Shiro’s the first to lean over and greet Lotor and something in Keith’s chest flares a little. He didn’t have to do that. He didn’t have to go out of his way to make Lotor feel welcomed or accepted but he did.

Lance, meanwhile, is still frowning heavily.  “So. Lotor’s joining us for dinner? Like, is this a thing now?”

Keith shrugs. “Hey, he seems like he’s changed. I told you earlier what he did.”

“Yeah,” Lance says slowly, eyes still narrowed suspiciously. “You don’t think he’s trying to get the inside scoop?”

Keith considers that. “Hmm, maybe but what the hell, it’s not like we’re fighting an intergalactic war, we’re just having dinner.”

“Yeah, but you and Shiro? Lotor’s gonna have a front row seat.”

“He’s not coming home with us, Lance.” Keith says dryly.

“Are you sure, Keith? Are. You. Sure.”

“You’re an idiot,” Keith laughs and Lance flashes him a grin and they go back to their seats but something about Lance’s words settle at the back of his mind. It does sound a little strange to have Lotor in such close proximity to them in their most comfortable environment but maybe the more Lotor sees, the more they have to tell, and they’ll be able to do away with the interviews and video diaries and god knows what other hoops Honerva wants them to jump through to prove to her their relationship is viable.

Their meals finally arrive and they all settle in. The conversation turns a little more guarded with Lotor in their mix but even Lance makes an effort to include him in the chatter. Lotor's answers are clipped and he frequently glances at Matt for something that looks like reassurance (which is weird, because Lotor never seemed like the sort to need reassurance before) even as Pidge eyeballs him from the other end of the table.

Once they’re inspecting the desert menu, Lance raises his voice to carry across to everyone seated together. It cuts into their individual conversations and they turn to him with eyebrows raised.

“You know what we should do now?” he says. It’s more of an announcement than a question so no-one but Keith bothers to respond.

“Don’t say karaoke. You always say karaoke,” Keith mutters and beside him Shiro chuckles.

“No,” Lance directs it at Keith with a touch of offence, as though he’s upset at the idea he could ever suggest such a mediocre thing.  “This is better. Laser tag!”

There’s a garbled choking sound from one side of the table and Matt’s face as gone red enough to prompt Hunk to thump him on the bad until he manages to cough up an ice cube. Lance frowns at him and nudges Keith.

“What’s his problem?”

Matt splutters something incomprehensible then waves his hands, making a slashing motion across his neck. Lance narrows his gaze.

“Is he sick or something? We’re off duty, Keith. Tell him we’re off duty,” Lance whines then and Keith eyes Matt, already thinking about what he’s going to have to do if he chokes. Luckily, Matt manages to get a hold of himself but he groans loudly and Pidge pokes him none too gently. 

“He’s fine,” she announces and Lance visibly relaxes at Keith’s side.

“Laser tag, huh?” Shiro says and Keith is immediately intrigued by the calculating look that’s suddenly appeared in his husband’s eye.  “I’d be up for that.”

Keith turns to Shiro with a speculative look of his own.  “Laser tag?” he says flatly.  “Really?”

Shiro releases a slow smirk that has alarm bells ringing in the back of Keith’s mind. He’s seen that smirk before. 

“Laser tag,” Shiro says firmly. Then he winks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some yell at me on tumblr if you want? <3


	34. you and i collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka the laser tag chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I think I can't possibly get any more self indulgent and cheesy, I manage to surprise myself. Also, I love love lovvvveee it when canon dialogue gets slipped into AU's so expect a bit of that in this.  
> Originally this chapter was going to be longer but I wanted to keep the Laser Tag stuff on it's own - check out the amazing art at the end!!

They quickly down the rest of their drinks and finish off desert, throwing the odd taunt at each other across the table about who is going to wipe whose ass across the floor, all the while Matt just groans and lays his head on the table pathetically and even Lotor’s looking at him in amusement. Pidge and Hunk huddle closer together and Keith isn’t sure if they’re making out or scheming and decides he doesn’t really care either way when he notices how cool Shiro has gone.

“Okay,” Keith says with no small amount of suspicion. “What’s with you all of a sudden?”

“Me?” Shiro tries to look innocent but it fails and Keith ends up eying him a little harder. Something was definitely up but before he can press any further, Lance has them all up and he’s herding them outside while Lotor lingers behind to talk to what Keith is later informed to be the restaurant’s owner.  He remembers belatedly that Lotor was footing the bill for most of their night out so he’s relived they didn’t give him the cold shoulder earlier.

They mill outside the restaurant under a row of string lanterns, watching the bob of the boats on the river surface. A ferry rolls past, creating a shimmer of colour from the lights along the water. The cooler air seems to sober them all up and somehow Pidge ends up wearing a jacket that’s twelve times too big for her once again.

“So, this place is just a few doors down?” Keith asks sceptically and Shiro nods.

“Yep, and a few levels up. Not worth taking the car for.”

Keith eyes Shiro shrewdly then.

“You’ve been drinking too much to drive anyway,” he says and Shiro gives him an amused look that makes Keith want to grumble at him. There’s no real heat behind it, he knows Shiro isn’t stupid enough to get behind the wheel with a few drinks under his belt but he kind of likes the way Shiro pulls him close enough to drape those heavy arms around him in reassurance. 

Shiro buries his face in Keith’s hair as Keith curls his arms around his waist and neither of them notices when the rest of their group start to slowly wander away until they get further enough that Lance has to yell at them to hurry up.

It’s a cacophony of sound when they enter the arcade. Bright and happy pop music blares over the speakers, combating the rings and dings and metallic voices of the array of games machines laid out before them. Rows of bowling lanes take up one wall and the clop and bang of the games in progress add to the noise while on the other side, a set of stairs snake up to the upper levels where a bar and the laser tag arena awaits.

“Hey, where’s Matt?” Pidge demands suddenly. Her hands are on her hips and she looks fierce.  Wherever Matt is right now, Keith hopes it’s worth the tongue lashing he’s going to cop when he gets back.

“Uh, where’s Lotor?” Hunk asks then turning to take a look around. Hunk is tall but Keith doubts even he can see too much over the rows of game machines.

“Wasn’t he paying the bill? That was nice of him,” Allura says and Lance pulls a face. 

“He’s been footing the bill for pretty much everything for us,” Shiro says then, shrugging a little.  That makes Keith frown.

“You mean Komar HQ has been.”

When they all look at him questioningly, Keith shrugs. “The people running the experiment. You know, _the scientists._ I doubt Lotor is paying out of his own pocket.”

“How long are you going to keep calling it an experiment,” Lance demands then, zeroing in completely on the part Keith didn’t want to actually be reminded of.  “You guys are married now. You’re in a relationship. It’s not an-“ he makes air quotes “’experiment’ anymore.”

Shiro lifts an eyebrow at Keith.  “He doesn’t know?”

“No,” Keith sighs and he feels suddenly tired. The groups eyes are on him expectantly and he huffs in irritation.  “Look, it’s an experiment for eight weeks at least.  Then after that, we have to decide if we’re going to sign the divorce papers, or…. You know, stay married.”

Keith catches Shiro frowning heavily at the explanation, looking as though he was about to protest but he doesn’t get the chance when Matt shows up and claims their attention. The subject quickly reverts back to laser tag but not before a few concerned glances get thrown their way.

“Where were you?” Pidge demands, poking Matt in the centre of his chest. Matt makes a dramatic show of rubbing the centre of his chest and scowling at her but she just smiles sweetly.

“I was… I was making sure Lotor knew… ah, I was just saying thanks. You know, for dinner. From us…”

Lance nudges Keith and leans in to speak quietly enough that only Keith can hear him.  “You don’t think…?”

It takes a second for Keith to catch on and he has a sudden mental image of Lotor and Matt together but something about that makes his brain itch unpleasantly.  He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, trying to dispel the image. 

“Nah,” he tries to say it confidently but the faint flare of panic on Lance’s face tells him he’s been unsuccessful.

Hunk complains loudly he’s too hungry to shoot anyone and Allura offers to go with him to the snack bar but by the time they get back, Lance and Pidge are facing off on some kind of holographic version of air hockey.  Unsurprisingly, Lance whines loudly when Pidge soundly beats him for the fourth time in a row. Hunk shrugs and offers very little sympathy.

“I told you, man.  She takes no prisoners.  You’re lucky she was going easy on you or you’d be _really_ embarrassed right now.”

“That was going easy?” Lance splutters then he eyes Pidge with a new-found respect. She grins and holds up her hand, cocked into the shape of a gun then points it at Lance.

“Wait until we get into the arena,” she says with a smirk. “You’re going to be toast.”

“In those heels? Pffft, you’ll be a sitting duck.”

“Lance,” Allura pins him with a very pointed look. “I love you, but surely you’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.” 

“Uh,” Lance flounders but seems to have the foresight not to say anything more. Keith briefly considers bailing him out with a change of subject but Shiro beats him to it.

 “Speaking of the arena, are you guys really to get your asses handed to you?”

“Only Keith wants to hand his- OW!”

“Finish that sentence, I dare you-“ Keith thumps him for good measure and Lance goes back to cackling to himself, although he takes a big enough step away to put some distance – and Pidge – between himself and Keith.

“Shiro, control your husband!” Lance calls out, this time stepping behind Allura who eyes him with amusement.

Shiro shrugs lazily at that. “Eh, Keith does what he wants,” he says in a resigned tone.  He catches Keith’s eye and the spark there causes Keith to grin manically.

“You’re gonna eat my dust, McClain,” he threatens.  He points at Lance then draws his finger across his throat.

“Wait, are we shooting or racing?”

“Who cares,” Matt sulks as they finally head upstairs.  “We’re all dead anyway.”

“Come on, Matt. Don’t be like that,” Shiro nudges him playfully and Matt only shoots him a dirty look before Shiro laughs and heads over to the counter.  “Remdax!” he calls out and Keith watches curiously as Shiro greets the short, squat man behind the counter warmly.

“Look,” Matt says worriedly to the rest of the group while Shiro is occupied with the laser tag operator behind the counter.  “All I’m saying is that Shiro goes HARD at this stuff.  He takes it very seriously. He’s competitive. He doesn’t like to lose. Not at laser tag.”

“Hey, I’m competitive. So is Keith.  We can hold our own,” Lance replies with a shrug.

“Not against Shiro, you can’t” Matt sighs. “It’s like some defender of the universe fantasy he’s trying to live out. You think it’s just a fun game but… it’s not.”

“I’m sure it will be-“ Lance trails off as Matt points at the wall above the laser tag counter with an overly dramatic flourish. Lance’s eyes bulge slightly. 

There, in bright neon colours above the counter is the score board, a holographic digital image of a trophy spinning around, the top scores for the last few years in glowing digits. And the very distinctive text _Takashi Shirogane_ and _CHAMPION_ flashing brightly. 

Shiro the champion, three years in a row and under it, Shiro strolls casually back to the rest of the group with Remdax trailing behind him.

Keith points to the hologram, half wondering if Shiro planned that little display and grudgingly admitting to himself it was pretty fucking hot if he did. Shiro’s face is the picture of innocence.

“You never mentioned _that_ ,” Keith says.

Shiro shrugs and his lips twitch like he’s trying to hold back a smirk.

“We’ve only been married a week. I’ve got to have at least _some_ surprises,” he answers, parroting back the same words Keith had said to him on their honeymoon.  It immediately sends Keith’s mind skittering, bringing up memories of the island and their bungalow and the moments spent kissing Shiro after that sparring session before they had been interrupted. He was going to kiss Shiro like that again, as soon as he got his husband alone somewhere, Keith promises himself because the way Shiro is standing there with that knowing, delectable smirk on his face suddenly makes Keith feel warm enough to strip off his jacket.

Lance glances from Shiro then back to Keith then narrows his eyes at his friend. “Wait, is this a sex thing?”

Keith’s cheeks heat and he desperately hopes Lance was just taking a stab in the dark and not that his thoughts were plastered so clearly over his face. He tries to ignore the way Shiro laughs softly even as Keith cuffs Lance over the back of the head. Lance cackles and shoves him back then they’re waiting for the previous group to finish up their game before they start theirs.

Remdax runs through the basics with them once they’re in the prep room, although Keith is faintly distracted by his husband divesting himself of his tailored blazer, revealing the white t-shirt he had on underneath. It was fitted enough that it clung tightly to the lines of his muscles, and his prosthetic limb is shiny and flaunted enough that Keith almost needs to sit down.

“Okay, guys. Let’s suit up,” Shiro says it with a hint of command and Lance’s eyes go wide as he exchanges a glance with Matt. Matt shrugs, his face an expression of utter dejection.

“I tried to warn you,” he mutters and then pulls one of the vests off the rack nearby only to get it stuck halfway over his head and Pidge has to rescue him from strangling himself.

Lance tugs the vest down and picks up a laser pistol, flipping it over and admiring the way it’s little colourful lights shimmer and blink. “Alright, very nice.”

Keith’s buckling his vest when Lance hands him his own gun.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asks Keith. “We just go in there and pow, pow, pow? Capture the flag?”

“What was that noise?”

“Laser guns,” Lance tells him with a roll of his eyes.  “Uh, because we’re playing laser tag? Geez, Keith, keep up.”

“No, no, it’s going to sound like this,” Hunk cuts in, imitating an explosion and Pidge pulls a face.

“Technically, they sound more like... _ba-choo, ba-choo, ba-choo_ -”

“Okay, enough with the bad sound effects. Besides, it's more like-“

Keith eyeballs his husband threateningly. “No. Don’t yo-“

“Blam, blam, blam!”

“Oh my god,” he groans. 

Shiro laughs and then he’s drumming the shoulder of Keith’s vest.  The lights are a distinctly different colour to Shiro’s and Keith realises they’re going to be competing in opposition. He’s strangely excited by that prospect. 

“So,” Shiro says quietly enough that only Keith can hear him.  He turns his body slightly, blocking Keith’s face from the rest of the group.  “What’s the winner going to get?”

Keith tries to bite back a smile, tapping the vest with the side of his pistol lightly. It makes a soft clink and he focuses on that as he smirks so he doesn’t lose his nerve when he meets Shiro’s look. “I don’t know, I’ll decide what I want later.”

“Oh,” Shiro lets out a small bark of laughter at that. “So that’s how it’s going to be. You sure you’re up for this? They don’t call me the champion for nothing.”

“Please,” Keith grins back at him, throwing down the taunt.  “Prepare to lose that title. You’re going to go _down._ ”

Shiro takes a step closer, close enough that the hairs on the back of Keith’s neck stand up. He glances up to find Shiro’s stance has changed slightly, his shoulders set and his back stiff and straight. The way his jaw lifts and the sharpened glitter in Shiro’s eye makes Keith think of another moment not too long ago.

“I love the confidence, _cadet,”_ Shiro murmurs against his ear and Keith almost chokes on his own tongue.

“That’s playing dirty,” he gripes when Shiro steps back, smiling affably as though he didn’t just make Keith almost come in his jeans. He glares at Shiro but once again Shiro feigns complete innocence.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he says innocently.

“I’m going to shoot you twice just for that,” Keith mutters and Shiro’s laughing again. The sound of it makes Keith’s blood run warm and he finds himself sharing a grin with his husband and thinking how much fun this is going to be.

“Hey, if the newlyweds have finished flirting, we’re ready to go,” Lance calls out.

They opt to let a few teams run in the arena, small groups of three with the sole aim of capturing the flag high in the centre.  Teams of three, except for Shiro who looks smug as fuck when Remdax informs him he’s going to be flying solo in the interest of keeping the competition fair.

Something about that makes the competitive juices pool in the pit of Keith’s stomach and he stares Shiro down from across the room. 

The other teams go through different doors, ready to the arena from various sides. Shiro smirks then smacks his ass as he strolls confidently past to another entry point into the arena and Keith sees red, although he’s not entirely sure if it’s prompted by lust or anger at the move.

Allura, Lance and Keith line up near their door and Lance, bounces on the balls of his feet lightly in anticipation seconds before the doors fling open and they’re filing through. It’s a blur of smoky colour and noise in the darkness as they enter the arena, strips of lights flicker and run across the walls and floor as it pours out and strobes briefly illuminate the simulated warzone in front of them. 

“All right, let’s do this!” Lance’s grin is nothing sort of wild and the three of them dash into the fray, leaping and dodging past other teams they quickly put down before finding themselves panting in a small sheltered alcove. 

“Okay, where to now?” Keith says, he’s panting a little but it’s purely from the adrenaline. 

In response, Lance cups his hand to his ear and pretends to talk into a mouthpiece. “Ten, four, rubber ducky. What?” Lance hisses when Keith raises an eyebrow at him.  “Just getting into the spirit of things.”

There’s a yell from nearby and they hurriedly crouch down low.  Allura balances surprisingly well on her high heels and short dress.  Lance had salaciously offered to tear a thigh slit in it earlier but she silenced him with a look.

There’s a flash of movement in the distance and Keith spins and slides to the other wall. He pops up, aiming and firing at a large and very distinctive target with an apparent death wish. A smaller target yells something incoherent as it darts past into the shadows.

Keith quickly realises it’s Hunk’s vest that flashes red then winks out as the big man groans and falls to the floor. One hand reaches out feebly.

“Avenge me,” Hunk moans melodramatically then his outstretched hand flops to the floor as he feigns his passing. A few seconds later he’s sitting up and dusting himself off. “Right, I’m going to get some nachos. See you losers!”

Keith’s vision hunts for Pidge in the darkness but she’s gone before he can get a lock.

“So, what’s the plan?”  Lance whispers then. He presses himself against the wall dramatically.

“Stay out of my way,” Keith mutters, staring down the corridor they’ve come to like he can see through the walls. He can hear shouts and the click and zap of the sound effects from the other players as they race around the arena. His ears strain and he’s pretty sure he can hear someone that sounds a lot like Matt yelling out something before there’s a high-pitched yelp.

“Oh, great plan,” Lance says sarcastically.

“We get the flag. We win,” Keith snaps back. He doesn’t miss Allura and Lance exchanging a glance behind him before they start to move forward again. More targets pop up, and Allura gets to them first, blinking them out one by one until an entire team is down and groaning in dismay at their failure.

“Whoa, babe!” Lance whoops and Allura smiles slyly at him and cocks a hip, a smug self-satisfied smile on her face.  Even Keith was impressed with those moves. Lance is beside him with eyes wide and shining in admiration. “Wow, I am _so_ turned on right now.”

Keith looks down the barrel of his laser gun but not before roughly nudging Lance.  “Focus. Shiro’s still out there.”

“Nuh uh, you’re on your own with this one. Dude is the CHAMPION, I’m not messing with that.”

“Hey, you said you’d have my back!”

“Nope, don’t remember. Didn’t happen.”

Keith growls when Lance slides closer to Allura and whispers something in her ear. In the low light of the arena, they’re bathed in pink and blues that wash into purple and Keith has to turn his back when Allura takes a fistful of Lance’s shirt and shoves him back against the wall to plant a powerful kiss on his lips.

“Really?” Keith mutters, throwing them a sideways glance. He’s faintly jealous. Jealous because the arena is dark with a hundred nooks and crannies and he’s really wishing he and Shiro hadn’t been on opposing teams right now. 

Lance and Allura’s kiss proves to be Allura’s downfall though because there’s a zap of light and a flash of red and a few seconds later her vest blinks out. She scowls as she stares down at it.

“Aw, babe,” Lance places his hand over his heart dramatically. “You took a shot for me. You really do love me.”

“No, I just had my back turned. A childish error,” Allura says with a frown.  She glances over at Keith and shrugs apologetically.  “Sorry, Keith.”

He flashes her a grin, knowing what he has to do.  He casts a sly glance back at Lance.

“Hey Lance,” he calls out, just loud enough to get his friend’s attention over the rest of the ambient noise.

Lance looks over from where Allura is already slipping down the hallway, a distracted frown on his face.  “What?”

Keith lifts his gun and shoots him. His vest powers down and Lance splutters.  “HEY!”

Keith gives him a sloppy salute then points his finger at him. “That’s for the fluffy handcuffs!”

Lance rattles his now deactivated weapon angrily at him. “Damnit, I was doing you a favour. I can’t believe you shot me, we’re on the same side!”

“Wouldn’t you rather be with Allura?” Keith says pointedly and Lance glares at him.

“I’d rather know my best friend isn’t going to shoot me in the back- OH WAIT, TOO LATE.”

“Whatever,” Keith rolls his eyes. “I’m going to get Shiro.”

Keith slinks away, leaving Lance to trail after Allura. He stalks through the corridors, noting how little movement and chatter there is now compared to earlier. The adrenaline is pumping so hard in his veins but it’s followed by the buzz of excitement.  He hasn’t had this much fun in years.

The flickering strobe lights flash up a shadow against one wall, and Keith tries to duck but he’s not fast enough. Suddenly he’s slammed back against the wall, hands forcibly pinned above his head by a huge dark shape. There’s a glimmer of silver and a flash of white teeth in the darkness. He recognizes the touch instantly and he’s immediately set aflame.

“Hi baby,” Shiro purrs against his ear and his traitorous body responds as though Shiro’s just striped him naked on the bed. “Looks like we’re the last ones standing.”

Keith can’t find his voice when Shiro leans closer and brushes his lips over the sensitive spot behind his ear. He’s helpless with his back to the wall and his wrist pinned by Shiro’s heavy hand but it’s the weight and feel of Shiro against him that saps his strength. It makes him shiver and he’s momentarily distracted by the flip flop of his stomach as Shiro pins him to do much but take it.

“Shiro,” he gasps as Shiro kisses the side of his jaw. He wants to formulate a sentence but his brain can’t seem to make any words string together. All his blood has rushed elsewhere.

Shiro kisses him again and Keith can’t help the soft puff that slips out. He feels Shiro’s lips curl into a self-satisfied smile against his skin and then Shiro releases Keith’s wrist to slide his hand down Keith’s side lovingly instead. The weight of the pistol in Keith’s palm pulls his hand down, forcing his mind to register it a split second later before he almost drops it. The thought formulates in his barely a millisecond before he acts.

“Sorry Shiro,” he manages to say.  “I love you, but I want to win this.”

He lifts his wrist and jams the pistol against Shiro’s vest. It’s enough force that Shiro steps back far to release his other hand and he jerks on the trigger before bounding away and leaping over the obstacles in the corner. 

It’s not until the lights come up and he’s holding the flag triumphantly in his hand that he realises what he said. 

* * *

 

Art by [91939Art](https://91939art.tumblr.com/)


	35. say you won't let go

Keith had never considered himself to be a coward.

But when the lights came up, the realization dawned and the world fell out from under him so fast when he dropped to the floor, he almost wished he could keep falling, right down into the abyss so he wouldn’t have to look up and see the expression on Shiro’s face.

As it was, he was saved by Lance pouncing on him and immediately getting him into a headlock to muss his hair and crow about the new champions, as though it had been Lance himself responsible for the win.  Keith tolerates it for a few seconds longer than he normally would, only because it meant he had a few more moments to gather his wits about himself.

If only he could gather up those words and shove them back down his throat.

Lance’s grip on him loosens and he straightens, trying to force a grin to his face.  They’d won after all, and anything less than a victory dance would have Lance looking at him too shrewdly to hide his fuck up.  Lance played the part of the clown but after years of working together side by side, he was far too in tune with Keith’s nuances to not know when something was up.

And god, wouldn’t Lance just have a fucking field day with this?

Keith busies himself with unlatching the clips on his vest before Lance glares at him. “Hey! What are you doing?”

“Game’s over,” he says then he goes to work on the other side. Even looking down and focusing on the vest, even as his hands shake ever so slightly, he’s vividly aware of Shiro approaching and the dread pools low in his gut.

“Maybe Shiro wants a rematch,” Lance shoves him lightly, and Keith’s eyes flicker to Shiro before hurriedly turning away to find something less confronting. Suddenly the vest in his hands looks utterly enthralling and he inwardly curses himself for being the world’s biggest idiot.

“No, I’m good,” Shiro says and the rumble of his voice floats over him like a warm wave.  “Good job, Keith.”

Keith flashes him a short grin, hoping that the subject changes and changes fast.  He’s acutely aware of Shiro beside him, close and overpowering in his presence and he almost jumps when Shiro puts a warm hand on his shoulder.  He pauses for Keith to drag his gaze upwards towards him before he continues.  “You did great out there, I’m proud of you.”

Keith’s brain seems to stutter.  The warmth in Shiro’s eyes seeps into the core of him, like it always does but Keith won’t let himself enjoy it.  He tears his gaze away and tries to shrug.  The movement makes Shiro’s hand fall away and Keith regrets it immediately.

They regroup in the ready room long enough to shuck their gear, ready to hand over to the next group of players.  Remdax barges in and waggles a fat finger in Keith’s direction, warning him if he ever tries to climb the turret again, he would end up banned whether he was married to the current laser tag champion or not but he’s grinning and poking Shiro in the chest so cheerfully, Keith isn’t sure how serious he is.

Despite the dressing down, Keith is almost grateful for it.  Remdax commandeered Shiro’s attention long enough for Keith to slink back to Allura and Lance, trying to ignore the flutter in his chest when he thinks about how exactly he managed the win. It was dirty tactics, really.  And he wondered if Shiro thought the same.  Something behind his breastbone pangs at the thought.

“Come on,” Lance slaps him lightly on the shoulder.  “Let’s go back downstairs. If this is the last Saturday night we’re going to get off for a while, I want to damn well enjoy it!”

“What’s so enjoyable for you in getting your ass repeatedly kicked?” Pidge says sweetly as she slides by. Lance pulls a face at her and Keith chuckles.

“Entertaining as hell for me,” he says and the scowl Lance gives him makes him laugh hard enough to dispel the tension that had coiled inside him.

The shuffle out of the ready room, Shiro lingering behind to talk some more with Remdax.  Keith is torn between waiting solicitously for his husband or being a coward and following the group to avoid being alone with Shiro for just those few minutes longer.

He’s a coward.  Yeah.  He has to admit to himself as he trails after the group down the stairs and back into the arcade. 

It’s a few arcade games later when Shiro finally finds him admiring the way Pidge is able to run laps around Lance on the racing simulators and the increasing frustration on Lances’ face despite repeated warnings from Hunk to stop goading her on.  He’s leaning on the back of Lance’s seat, unhelpfully offering commentary on Lance’s driving when he feels the weight of Shiro’s metallic hand on the small of his back.

“You are the worst driver ever,” he comments idly once the words YOU’VE CRASHED flash up on screen. Lance flips him off.

“Joke’s you, mullet. You’re the one who has to sit beside me in the rig.”

“I know. It’s terrifying. Every day I wonder… Is this it? Is this my last day on earth?”

“Oh, fuck _you,”_ Lance tries to slap him over the back of the chair but Keith easily leans out of his way.

“You love me,” he sings back to Lance, just the same way Lance said it to him not so long ago.

Lance growls and Keith laughs and then Shiro’s hand applies just the slightest more pressure.  The space from the moment earlier and the few laughs helped give Keith a chance to regroup. He’s calmer now, or at least, he thought he was until he glances up and finds Shiro looking at him with an expression he can’t quite interpret.

“Keith, can I pull you away for a second?”

“Uh,” he glances back at the others briefly but before he can bring himself to answer, Lance is already shooing them away.

“Yes! Please, take him away, Shiro. No fucking behind the arcade machines though, god knows what you might cat-OW” Keith thumps him over the side of the head and Pidge snickers as she feeds more credits into the machine.

“You deserved that,” she says and Lance turns his attention to her and the two of them end up trash talking as Shiro leads him away.

“What’s up?” Keith asks. He tries to sound casual but the words are like ash on his tongue. Shiro’s raised eyebrow makes him think he’s not buying it and the panic he’d fought off earlier is suddenly back with a vengeance and he realises he’s not ready. He’s not ready for Shiro to call him on this, he’s not ready to look Shiro in the eyes and _say it._

“So, I realised something earlier,” Shiro stops beside a row of machines that look like a collection of skill testers and things that look like they’re trying to be old-timey photo booths. The illusion doesn’t quite work on account of the digital screens and bright colours but at least they’re marginally quiet here. Keith can actually hear himself think, although in hindsight, he’s not sure if that’s such a great thing.

“What’s that?” Keith manages to say when Shiro looks at him expectantly.  The raised eyebrow turns into what definitely looks like amusement on his face and Keith feels the urge to frown.

“It’s our one-week anniversary today,” Shiro says and the grin on his face makes Keith’s brain go blank because it’s beautiful, Shiro is beautiful and Keith needs to get his shit together before he blurts it out again and ruins _everything._

“Oh,” he says and he has to mentally switch gears to count back through the days. How could it only be a week? It felt like a lifetime. 

One down. Seven to go.

He almost frowns at the thread of that thought, refusing to follow it to it’s conclusion. He would have enough time to worry about that later. Right now, Shiro was drawing him close and Keith leans into him, breathing in the faded scent of his aftershave and savouring the weight of his hand on his back.  “I didn’t get you anything,” he mumbles into Shiro’s shirt.

“I have you,” Shiro says and Keith listens to the vibration of his words.  “We should get a memento though, something to show the grandkids one day.”

Shiro moves away and Keith isn’t sure what the mass sitting on his chest is but suddenly he can’t seem to catch his breath.  He’s sure his distress is plastered on his face and it reminds him violently that just because Shiro was married to him _now_ , wouldn’t mean he will want to stay married.  Not if he wanted… More.

“Keith, that was a joke.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure,” Keith forces himself to laugh but it rings hollow.  Shiro takes his hand and tugs him into the nearest booth before Keith can fully comprehend Shiro’s plan. 

The booth wasn’t designed with two fully grown men in mind, especially if one of the men are as tall and as broad as Shiro.  They have to squeeze together on the inside and Keith finds himself laughing when Shiro pretends to sneeze after getting a nose full of Keith’s hair. 

“Why are you so huge, god-“ Keith mutters as they jostle together.

“Hey, I didn’t hear you complaining this afternoon,” Shiro teases back and Keith instantly feels his face go pink.  In retaliation, he elbows his husband before Shiro simply hauls him into his lap and the first camera flash goes off. 

“Smile,” Shiro murmurs against his cheek but it turns into him tilting Keith’s face enough to capture his mouth instead. Another flash goes off and Keith pulls back.  Shiro tries to chase him with his mouth but Keith manages to swat at him to hold him at bay. It’s pretty half-hearted though. He really doesn’t want to stop Shiro kissing him. He never wants Shiro to stop kissing him.

“Hey,” he protests.  “This was your idea, remember.”

“I remember, I’m just going for natural instead of posing. I don’t want to forget how crazy about each other we are now when we’re old and grumpy and sitting on the porch yelling at Lancey Lance Junior to get off our lawn.”

Keith goes quiet at that, his throat dry and his limbs suddenly useless as the notion takes up root in his mind.  He tries to imagine Shiro older, a full head of white hair, maybe a little softer around the edges. He tries to imagine himself right beside him, older and greyer and a lifetime behind them and it makes him emotional enough that he has to blink.  Shiro notices, of course he would and a heartbeat later, one bionic finger lands under Keith’s chin to tilt his face up.

Keith wants to let his eyes fall closed but Shiro’s gaze is too encompassing. It’s like a tractor beams locking onto him and holding him in place and Keith gets the sensation Shiro is looking for something from him. He’s waiting for something, and Keith is fairly sure he knows what it is.

“You’ve made me so happy, Keith,” Shiro says quietly. 

 _I love you,_ he thinks. _I love you, Shiro._

But he’s a coward and the words die on his tongue.

 

* * *

 

By the time Shiro parks the car in the garage and turns the engine off, Keith is already trying to climb across the gearstick to slide into his lap.  The urgency that fills him almost edges a wild panic and he’s mashing his lips against Shiro’s hard enough that Shiro grips him and pulls back after a few clacks of their teeth.  His gunmetal grey eyes are clouded when they meet.

“Whoa, Keith,” he laughs but it’s hollow and Keith feels that hollowness right into his bones.  Did he fuck this up already?

“I want you,” Keith says, and he tries to make himself sound confident and comfortable, assured in the relationship between them.  There’s a flicker in Shiro’s eyes that makes him worry he didn’t succeed and then Shiro is watching him, one hand on his cheek and a thumb swiping over his lips.  He doesn’t hesitate to part them and try to follow Shiro’s finger with his tongue.

Shiro’s eyes close slowly as he hums and Keith sucks the digit in his mouth.

“Keith,” he groans and then Shiro’s hand is pulled away but only far enough the tangle in the hair at the back of Keith’s neck. “Upstairs. Now.”

The command in his voice makes Keith shiver and he doesn’t fight it.  They slide out of the car and Shiro moves towards the internal stairs that lead into the townhouse, casting a heavy glance in Keith’s direction.

Once upstairs, they pause long enough to kick away their shoes and their clothes then Keith is spinning Shiro around and abruptly shoving him until he’s on his hands and knees on the mattress.  Shiro lets out a surprised hiss at Keith’s rough handling but then he’s urging Keith on and when Keith finally slides home, he’s gripping Shiro’s hip with one hand and his shoulder with the other. 

He leans forward, pressing his lips to the spaces between his spine, trying to inject all the love and apology inside him.

_I love you but I can’t tell you yet._

Because it was supposed to be his last line of defence. The worlds on the tip of his tongue, the words that would change almost everything for the both of them. And they were still on borrowed time.  Shiro was brave and noble and he wanted this to work, even if there was a chance it might not.  If he knew Keith was in love with him before the eight weeks were up, it would only add another layer of pressure where there didn’t need to be. He couldn’t influence Shiro’s decision. He needed Shiro to want to stay because he wanted to, not because he felt obligated.

Keith grips him harder, pouring into him all the things he couldn’t bear to give a voice to.

 

* * *

 

Sleep doesn’t want to be found by Shiro on this night.

He’s lying awake, the figure of his husband just a rough shape breathing deeply in the moonlight beside him and once again he envies Keith’s ability to simply lay his head down on the pillow and fall asleep. One second, he was awake, the next he was out cold to the world.

Shiro shuffles against the headboard of the bed enough to sit up slightly. It’s their first night together here. Their first night of Keith curled up in their bed, and there was hardly any of it left and Shiro just can’t seem to find the peace that will let him relax.

He was confused.

Keith’s words in the arena were unmistakeable. Shiro had doubted it initially, wondering if he’d heard correctly but he shifted and turned the memory over in his mind a million times, examining it, replaying it.  There was no doubting what he’d heard. 

But it didn’t add up and it unsettled him in ways that made something awfully close to fear sit at the back of his tongue.

One week with Keith and he’d learned a lot about the man he’d married. He had learned enough that he was sure he was well on his way to being hopelessly in love. He’d learned enough to know that the looming option of divorce in eight weeks was something he wasn’t interested in.  The more he learned about Keith, the more he _wanted_ to learn.  The more he wanted to see him when he woke up in the mornings, the more he wanted Keith to make his body sing, the more he wanted to share his life with him.

Over the week, he was sure he’d learned one thing about Keith, one thing that now made him doubt almost everything.

Because Keith had said _I love you_ and then acted as if he didn’t just drop the biggest bombshell right into the centre of Shiro’s world.

A small part of Shiro nudged him and informed him it could easily have been a distraction. Just a cheap tactic to divert Shiro’s attention long enough for Keith to take the advantage. And, had it been anyone else, Shiro might have considered it.

But not with Keith. Keith isn’t one for saying things he doesn’t mean. He wouldn’t throw words around like that. Not Keith who put weight behind words.  Not Keith, who for him, words _meant_ something.

He knew this, because he had seen the effect on Keith first hand.  Every whispered endearment Shiro has ever given him is like watching a flower bloom.  Keith falls wide open.  He becomes exposed. He’s there, ready for the taking and Shiro absorbs and cradles it all.

The abrupt realisation stings though. The endearments haven’t been returned.

He travels back through his memories of their time together, and there’s not a single moment and Shiro realises that Keith has not even said his first name yet.  How did you go from nothing, to I love you in a matter of days?  You don’t really.  Shiro can’t help himself though. He wonders briefly what that will feel like if he does. What will it feel like to taste his name on Keith’s tongue, to hear Keith breathing out _baby_ against his skin, to say those three little words and _mean_ it.

There wasn’t any denying what he’d heard when he had Keith pinned against that wall in the arena and it was so at odds with what Shiro had thought he’d learned about his new husband that now he’s not sure if he’s really learned anything at all.

Keith’s sound asleep, Shiro’s body aches sweetly from Keith’s touch on him but he can’t rest. 


	36. somebody to you

When Keith woke, it was from bad dreams. Insidious tendrils trying to curl themselves around his psyche to leave him cold and he even endured the briefest, surprising flicker of something ominous, like there was something dark inside the room with him, leering at him from the shadowy corners.

He shakes it off, quickly seeking out the warm shape in the sheets beside him. Shiro’s breathing deeply, turned away from him and leaving his back exposed and Keith shuffles closer, pressing up against his husband and focusing on the steady beat of his heart. Something about listening to that even heartbeat is calming. Just a heart at rest, nothing to fear, nothing to strain against. Just an even _lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub._

It's nice, he thinks sleepily, to be waking up here in Shiro’s bed, in Shiro’s home. It should feel stranger but like almost everything has the past week, it just feels… right.

He’s almost dozing off again when Shiro sighs and Keith realises he’s waking up. Outside, the warm morning light is trying to find its way through the heavy curtains and when Keith lifts his head finally, he spots Black sunning himself in a small patch of sunlight on the carpet.

“Hey,” Shiro twists over until they’re face to face. His eyes are still closed. “Did you sleep okay?” he mumbles.  He looks like he’s about to drop back off to sleep and it almost makes Keith smile.

“Yeah, I was lights out as soon as my head hit the pillow.”

“I know,” Shiro chuckles then. “You were snoring like a freight train-“

Keith yanks the sheet up over Shiro’s head to stop him talking and there’s a mild half laugh of protest.  Keith knows he doesn’t snore.  Not much anyway, but Shiro likes to make out like he does and it’s become a running joke between them. Usually enough to just get their hands on each other so they end up tangled up together.

Keith hopes this morning will be no exception.  He’s keen for things to get back to normal between them after last night.  A part of him wonders if maybe he’d dreamt it all, but pile of their clothes on the floor tells him he didn’t.  He just has to hope now that Shiro might have forgotten about his little indiscretion in the arena.

Shiro tugs the sheet back down.  He looks more awake now but he’s reaching out warm, sleep kissed limbs towards Keith and tugging him close. He buries his nose in Keith’s hair then mumbles something Keith has to ask him to repeat.

“That thing you did last night?” Shiro says, this time a little clearer.  His face is still in Keith’s hair and Keith almost misses the second part.  “Do it again.”

There’s a long, panicked minute when Keith wonders if he heard correctly and he freezes in place like a deer in the headlights but then Shiro is reaching over him to fumble under his pillow to pull out a small tube. 

Keith lets out a sigh of relief.  Fuck. He thought….

He didn’t know what he thought. 

He must have been too slow to respond when Shiro sinks back onto his pillow.  “Unless you don’t want to-“

“No! I mean, yes. Fuck yes. God, Shiro-“ _as if you could ever doubt it._

Shiro smiles contentedly to himself then and it strikes Keith that he’s already so sleepy and languid from the night before, he’s going to be absolute putty in Keith’s hands. He’s a bit pleased about that.  Last night he’d been too worked up to let Shiro see his expression, but this morning with the warm sunlight peeping through, he’ll be able to watch the play of sensation rolling over his husband’s face at every touch and something about that makes his heart suddenly kick up its beat.

“Good,” Shiro says contentedly. He pushes down the sheet a little more, revealing the sharp line of his hips, the curling dark hair and lower down again, and it’s a sight that makes Keith’s mouth instantly start to water. “Where do you want me?”

Keith shifts, looming over his naked, splayed out husband, still heavy-eyed and loose with the vestiges of sleep and smiles to himself. 

“Exactly where you are,” he whispers.

He runs his hands over Shiro’s body, pushing apart his heavily muscled thighs to settle between them. Shiro can barely open his eyes, relaxed as he is but he still manages to offer a dreamy smile.  He gasps when Keith’s hands wander over his skin and then take a moment to thoroughly slick him up. His gasp turns into a low moan when Keith twists a finger inside him then leans down to take Shiro into his mouth. 

Keith savours it, the taste and the shape and the feel of Shiro against his tongue. He’s hot and smooth like velvet, the tang of him as familiar to Keith now as his own name.  He almost sighs into it, sinking down and taking Shiro deeper into his throat until it’s enough that something that sounds distinctly like a whimper falls from Shiro’s chest. Shiro’s hand finds its way to Keith’s hair and there is something about the way Shiro threads the strands through his fingers and pets him that makes Keith moan against Shiro’s length. Shiro hisses and lets out a gasped warning that he’s close, so close but Keith refuses to let go and then he’s pouring down Keith’s throat with enough force Keith has to beg off enough so that he doesn’t choke.

“Keith, baby, god-“  Shiro’s plucking weakly at his shoulders, his voice a strange mix between a triumphant cry and an apologetic whimper. His body quivers around Keith’s fingers still buried inside him. “I’m sorry, I- fuck, babe-“

“Shh,” Keith murmurs as he pulls back.  “So good, Shiro, you taste so good I wanted it all.”

He spares enough time to wipe what he couldn’t swallow with the back of his hand then he changes position enough to line himself up. He pauses long enough to catch Shiro’s eye, and Shiro nods weakly and earnestly and Keith can’t wait a moment longer.  He slides home, sighing deeply as his eyes drift shut and he concentrates on the feel of Shiro’s heat around him, clutching him tightly once he’s past the initial resistance and he savours it until his own need makes him draw back only to thrust back in. Shiro lets loose his name on a long sigh and allows Keith to position him in order to ride him harder and deeper until they’re both sweat soaked and sticky and Keith is shuddering and spilling himself with a violence that shouldn’t still be so potent after days of continual sex.

Keith feels weak when he finally pulls away and collapses to the mattress at Shiro’s side. Shiro immediately turns to curl around him, his chest to Keith’s back and his nose in Keith’s hair. The room has only the quiet gasps of their breaths as their heartrates ease to fill it.

“Well,” Shiro says almost dryly and there’s something in his tone that makes Keith’s sleepy mind take notice. “That’s the first time I’ve ever done that with an audience.”

“What?” Keith squeaks and his eyes fly open. 

Two golden orbs regard him silently from their perch on the beside table.  “Black,” he mutters and buries his face into the pillow. “Does he always do that?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro answers and there’s a hint of a laugh in this voice.  “I can’t say I’ve ever done that in front of him before. I think he wants breakfast.”

“He’s not the only one,” Keith mumbles. 

\--

Shiro isn’t surprised when the doorbell rings an hour or so later and then the rest of their little group comes filing through the front door.  He was expecting Hunk and Pidge as he did every Sunday but at least this time they’d remembered to at least announce themselves first. It was comforting to know they respected his privacy as a newly married man to consider what they might be walking into if they show up unannounced.

He’s less surprised than he expected to be when he sees Allura and Lance trail in behind and close the door.  Lance takes an exaggerated look around and whistles.

“Wow, nice digs Shiro. Keith, this is so much better than your shit hole.”

Keith takes one look at Lance from where he’s perched at the kitchen counter, hands clasped around a hot mug of coffee and groans.

“Isn’t it enough that I have to spend twelve hours a day with you on shift, I have to see you in all my free time as well?”

“Ha, ha,” Lance says sarcastically but then he sidles over to Shiro.  “Besides, I’m not here for you, I’m here to see Shiro.”

The glare Keith shoots Lance smacks of jealousy and Shiro wants to fold that memory and tuck it up inside his chest. He’s not sure what kind of man it makes him that he relishes the idea of his husband having a jealous streak but he does. Big time.

Hunk dumps a pile of containers onto the countertop and Shiro instantly recognizes that as his cue to grab the coffee he’d just made and head out to the patio. He motions for the others to follow and they end up settling down at the outdoor table, breathing in the scent of the bougainvillea that carries on the breeze. Keith shuffles by to take the seat across from him and he squeezes Shiro’s shoulder lightly as he passes.

Shiro flashes him a private grin, still able to feel Keith’s touch on him and loving that he can. It’s an effort to drag his mind out of his memory and into the present but he manages it eventually.

“Is Matt joining us?” he eventually asks.  “He seemed kind of distracted last night.”

“Yeah, he reckons he’ll be by later. He said he has something to show us,” Pidge answers.  She’s got her tablet on the table and she’s flicking through some items that Shiro recognizes to do with his arm.  He has to sigh inwardly, knowing that another tweak was no doubt going to be coming soon.

They’re halfway through the hearty brunch Hunk prepared for them, eggs benedict on sourdough toast with chunks of avocado and bacon when Matt finally shows up.  As soon as he steps through the doorway and takes a seat, Pidge pins him with a look.

“What the hell is _that?”_

“Uh, what?” 

“That… that mark on your neck – oh my god is that a _hickey?”_

Matt’s eyes go wide and he slaps a hand over the mark in question like it’s a mosquito.  “Ahhhh-“

“You were awfully chummy with Lotor last night,” Allura comments and all eyes swing to her as she idly stirs a spoonful of sugar into her coffee then back to Matt again. 

“WHAT?”

“No way!”

“Ew?”

There’s general uproar around the table. Hunk nudges Lance and he looks suddenly like he’s just sucked on a lemon then he’s digging into his jacket to pull out his wallet.  Hunk grins as he snatches the notes out of his hand.

“Lance, wrong again.”

“Not wrong, just in denial,” he mutters.  He hunches over in his seat and Allura pats his head sympathetically.

“I did warn you,” Shiro hears Allura say.

Matt squirms in his chair, the tips of his ears turning bright pink and the flush spreads out to fill his cheeks.  “I like pretty things,” he mutters then he huffs.

Shiro takes pity on him by changing the subject.

“Pidge said you had to show us?”

“Shiro! Don’t let him off that easily!”

Shiro grins at her.  “Come on, don’t you remember how awkward it was when you and Hunk got together the first time?”

Pidge’s cheeks instantly flame red and she suddenly looks so much like her brother they could have been twins.  Hunk swivels his head around.

“Wait, it was awkward?” he asks, as though it was news to him.  Maybe it was, Shiro wasn’t sure. Once day they were lab partners, the next Shiro had walked in on them defiling Coleen’s kitchen countertop and he hadn’t been able to look either of them in the face for a week.  That was almost five years ago now.

“Ohhh, do tell,” Lance pipes up, eyeing Pidge with a suddenly speculative look.  She threatens him with her butter knife and he throws a napkin at her.

“What did you have?” Keith asks Matt quietly, ignoring Lance as much as he can.  Matt looks at him gratefully for an instant but then his gaze flicks from Keith to Shiro then back again and he looks suddenly nervous.

“Well, uh. So, it seems like you guys are kinda famous now.”

Shiro frowns and Keith’s face is carefully blank.  “Who?”

“You and Keith. A local blog decided to do a piece on you and now it’s all over the place.”

Lance pauses his mock food fight with Pidge to swing around and glare at Keith.  “Please tell me that mullet has not only gotten married before me, he’s gone viral before me too?”

“Viral?! What the hell?” Keith looks alarmed now.

Matt hands over his tablet and Lance and Keith jostle for position over who reads it first. Lance nabs it, holding it away from Keith with one hand and using the other to shove Keith’s face back.  Keith retaliates by bending one of Lance’s fingers backwards and he yelps and drops the tablet.

“Honestly, you two,” Allura sighs and picks up the tablet from the table. Her lips purse as she starts to read and Shiro suddenly feels the bottom fall out of his stomach.

Not this again.

Lance leans over, starting to read over Allura’s shoulder. “Hey, why don’t I get a mention? The best man should at least get a mention,” he complains and Matt throws his hands up. 

“Right? We’ve been ignored.”

“An outrage,” Pidge says dryly with a roll of her eyes.

She hands Shiro her tablet, open to the apparent article in question and the troubled look in her eye makes Shiro feel a bit sick and he has a sudden flashback to a few years ago when he had been stuck in a hospital bed, missing an arm and barely able to walk. Pidge had been younger then, easier to intimidate, and he hadn’t been above snapping at her to get his way.  It still shamed him to think about how she’d tried to protect him, how she’d tried to keep the articles away from him but he’d insisted on reading them anyway.

This Pidge wouldn’t be so easy to argue with but it turns out they both learned something from before. He takes the tablet and starts to read but Lance has already started to read the article out loud.

“ _’Search and rescue medic with the privately operated Careflight Paramedical Services unit, Keith Kogane, 25, was matched by the team at Komar HQ with Takashi Shirogane, 29, a combat and deep space flight instructor with our local Galaxy Garrison base. The couple met and married in a small ceremony just a week ago before jetting off to a tropical setting for a honeymoon_ \- blah blah blah, science stuff and…” Lance frowns and casts a worried glance in Keith’s direction.

Shiro has a feeling he knows what’s coming.

“What?” Keith demands. It’s impossible to miss the sudden tightness in his jaw.

Lance clears his throat, this time continuing to read in a much more subdued voice. “ _’_ _But what if the match fails? Having the option of an eight-week exit route is hardly a whole-hearted, unambiguous endorsement of lifetime commitment. It makes a mockery of a real marriage. This experiment is a sham, just a silly game and no marriage that comes from it could be real or lasting. So will Kogane and Shirogane live happily ever after? Unlikely, but at least the divorce is already in the works_ \- Man, fuck this article. Don’t listen to it, Keith.”

The words sting but Shiro is able to push it aside. It wouldn’t be the first time for him but the look on Keith’s face tells him the words have rocked his husband. He’s dimly aware of the others exchanging glances around the table and Matt stares unhappily into his lap.

“This is why I didn’t want to just send it though,” he says quietly when Shiro catches his eye.

“It’s fine, Matt. Thanks for showing us, at least we know about it.”

He shifts his attention to his husband.  “Keith,” Shiro tries to reach for Keith’s hand across the table but Keith draws back before he gets close. He looks more livid than Shiro has ever see him.

“Who is this woman?” Lance demands then and even Shiro can tell it’s a very real anger that’s permeating his words.  “What’s her number? I’m calling her right now. Hunk! Give me your phone-“

“Why do you want mine? Use your own.”

Lance looks at him like he’s stupid.  “I can’t use mine, what if she ends up being a psycho?”

“I can fix that,” Pidge states confidently and she snatches up Lances phone.  “I can put a reroute in place, she won’t know where the call is coming from.”

“Nice,” Lance’s eyes shine with appreciation.  “Alright, here goes.”

“Lance,” Keith tries to protest but he’s shushed by Lance with one hand holding the phone to his ear, the other placed on Keith’s lips. Keith smacks it away and hunches in on himself.  If he wasn’t on the other side of the table, Shiro would have slid his arms around him.

“Hello, yes? Is this Ms Baku? I’m calling about the article you wrote about-“

Lance pauses. “Yeah, that’s the one.”  He stands up to circle the table as he talks.  “Who am I? I’m only the best man-“

He talks to her for a brief moment, scowling occasionally then glancing over at Keith and frowning.  Shiro half wishes Lance put it on speaker but he’s also not sure he wants to hear it all. Keith leans forward as though trying to listen in though. 

“Oh, you wanted to interview them directly?” Lance is saying, frowning at Keith.  “And you tried to contact him numerous times? Really? Did you now?  Oh, a few days ago you say? And there was no answer-“

“Guess we know who that mystery caller was now,” Shiro says to Keith. He tries to offer a smile but it dies a lonely death when it comes in contact with Keith’s very distinct and unhappy frown.

Lance talks a bit more, then hangs up and places the phone face down on the table as he retakes his seat. It’s suddenly quiet in the courtyard. So quiet that they can hear the neighbours start up their coffee machine in the villa two doors over.  Lance presses the tips of his thumbs and forefinger together and leans back in his chair.

“She wants to interview you both on her radio show so you can set the record straight in your own words.”

“What? No. Nope.”  Lance frowns at Keith.  Shiro does too.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s ridiculous,” Keith snaps. “It’s no one’s business anyway.”

“You’ve already got a bit of a crowd following this thing,” Hunk says after a moment.  “I hate to be the one to point it out but it’s out there now. There’s going to be interest.”

“At least if you do the interview, you can control what gets put out there,” Pidge comments but she’s frowning.

“Shiro, what do you want to do?” Allura turns to him and he has to blink.

This wouldn’t be the first time his name ended up splashed somewhere online. Probably wouldn’t be the last.  They could say what they wanted, but as long as himself and Keith and their small group of friends and family knew the truth, he couldn’t ask for anything more.  But Keith’s obvious discomfort and distress tells him that a platitude like that isn’t going to cut it for Keith.

“Keith,” he sighs and then he’s inhaling sharply when Keith rounds on him, violet eyes flashing with something that looks a lot like panic and anger.  Why is he so worked up about this?

“No.”

Keith drops his spoon to the table with a clatter and there’s the rough sound of a chair scraping back across the deck as Keith lunges to his feet.  “I just want to live my life and do my job. I don’t want to be paraded around.”

Shiro’s mouth opens to answer but then Keith is stalking inside and there’s a beat of silence around the table.

“Um, is he okay?” Hunk asks after a moment. Lance rubs the back of his neck and exchanges a glance with Allura. 

“Maybe I should talk to him-“

“No,” Shiro shakes his head and pushes to his feet. “I’ll go.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before he hands the tablet back to Pidge and follows his husband back inside the townhouse. There’s no sign of him downstairs so Shiro pads slowly up the stairs, pausing only to run a hand over Black’s fur as he dozes on the armrest of the couch when he passes.

He finds Keith in the bedroom, knees draw up on the bed, his back to the doorway. He’s staring out through the balcony doors where the sheer curtain billows softly in the breeze.

Shiro walks over and takes a seat beside him.  “Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

It takes Keith a moment to answer.  Shiro can feel the tension radiating off him in waves. He feels partially responsible for why Keith is upset and he’s not sure if he should touch him. But he wants to.  He desperately wants to.  A chasm has cracked open between them and it feels as wide as an ocean.

He’s surprised when Keith speaks first.

“They’re laughing at us.”

“Keith, it’s just some stupid article by some crazy reporter. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s a joke to them. They’re treating _us_ like a joke. Like what we have is a joke.”

“Keith,” Shiro tries again, reaching out to slide a hand over his husband’s shoulder but the way Keith flinches make him think twice. That hurts more than it should and he falters. 

He doesn’t know how to fix this, not when he’s part of the problem. He sighs.  “It’ll be fine-“

“It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine. Just like the eight-week deadline will be fine too, huh?” Keith snaps and surges back to his feet to stalk away.  It’s not lost on Shiro the distance Keith is psychically trying inject between them. It hurts and it makes him a little angry.

“That again? I thought you moved passed that-“

“How can I?” Keith folds his arms tightly across his chest and stares out the balcony door.  Shiro doubts he can see much but he doesn’t really need to. He just doesn’t want to look at Shiro.

“Keith, you’re looking for trouble where there’s nothing there,” he says quietly. The vibrating tension in the room makes him feel tired and confused.  He’s trying to see if from Keith’s point of view, but they’d talked about Honerva’s deadline, they’d promised each other they would ignore it and just let things happen organically.

But Keith clearly wasn’t following through on that.  Shiro suddenly doesn’t know where he stands on this and his confidence in their relationship wavers.

“Am I? Maybe you’re not looking hard enough.”

“Keith, I don’t want to fight with you. If you don’t want to do this, I won’t push you.”

There’s a beat of silence and then Keith’s eyes are sliding to his.  His arms drop to his sides as his ridged stance suddenly softens.  The change happens so fast, Shiro is almost dizzy.

“But you think we should, right?” Keith presses.  There’s still a spark of heat in Keith’s eye that tells Shiro he’s still angry but at least he’s looking at Shiro in the eye now.

Shiro sighs in spite of himself.  “Look, I think we should at least try it. One interview, and that’s it.  Hopefully they’ll get bored and move onto something new and leave us alone.”

Keith stares at him, and Shiro can see the cogs turning. Then he’s moving back to Shiro’s side and Shiro has to swallow back the rush of relief that Keith isn’t going to shut him out, that he’s not going to run and leave Shiro standing in the dust.

“A united front,” Shiro says when Keith comes close enough to capture Keith’s wrist with his metal fingers. They slide down his palm then their hands entwine.  “Remember?”

Keith nods. “I remember.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The full article is on the blog [ here ](https://sheithmafsau.tumblr.com/post/173096368166/married-at-first-sight) here and the first part of the radio interview [ is here ](https://sheithmafsau.tumblr.com/post/173322597201/radio-interview-transcript)


	37. now we're in it, to win it, ain't ever gonna stop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sick and i wanted fluff and this happened

It’s a short time later when Keith slinks back to the table behind Shiro, but no one aside from Allura who gives him a quick smile acknowledges the time they were gone. He’s relived for that, he feels mildly chagrined that he stormed off like he did but the space and the chat with Shiro had helped calm his nerves and wipe the red from his vision.

Thankfully the conversation had moved on and Keith resolves to push his worries to the side as the chatter flows around him. Pidge and Lance are arguing again about the latest video games, Matt’s smiling at the phone in his hand and Allura is chatting animatedly with Hunk. 

Shiro squeezes his hand as they take their seats once again. It’s not too difficult to slide back into the conversation with their friends and before they realise it, a good hour has passed and the sun crawls higher into the sky. It’s no longer brunch anymore and someone grumbles about going back to work in the morning.  Keith grimaces at his now cold coffee and agrees with the sentiment.

“Well, at least I won’t have to be paired up with Rolo again,” Lance comments. He’s let Pidge have her win and he’s leaning back against Allura. 

“You’re too hard on him,” Allura answers.  “Ever since he accidentally locked you in the rig.”

“Accidentally,” Keith says dryly, and he makes the motion of air quotes.  Lance nods at him.

“See! Keith gets it.”

“Back to work for us too,” Hunk says and Shiro lets out a small chuckle that makes the hairs on the back of Keith’s neck stand up pleasantly.

“You’re always working,” Shiro comments to Hunk.  “Even when you’re not.”

Hunk glances up from the tablet he’s fiddling with at the table and looks sheepish.  “There’s a lot to do. Got a new upgrade for your arm too.”

“Another one?”

“Yep,” Pidge answers this time, letting her lips smack together on the pop of the P.  “Come by the lab tomorrow-“

“Or we could just do it now?” Hunk adds in.

Keith frowns as he looks over at Shiro, who seems to be considering the suggestion. He’s not sure why but more of the tinkering with the tech makes him feel unsettled.  He still hasn’t forgotten the reaction on the rest of Shiro’s body when it went screwy during their time on the island.

“Well, at least then I won’t have nosy cadets hanging around to watch.”

“Right, so, now then?”

Shiro shrugs and Hunk and Pidge start to pile the plates together. Lance jumps up.

“No! Nope, where I come from, the cook doesn’t do the cleaning. Keith and I have got this.”

“Aw, thanks buddy,” Hunk sits back again but Pidge stubbornly keeps collecting items so Keith jumps up to help her just as Lance volunteers him.  He doesn’t mind.

“He’s right, we’ll take care of this,” Keith nods in agreement and takes the plates from Pidge’s hands then gestures at her to sit back down.  

They carry the plates and cups into the kitchen. Lance starts to fill the sink as Pidge wanders over with a few of the used mugs.  She raises an eyebrow as he rummages around under the sink to find the washing detergent and gives a liberal squirt into the water.

“You know there’s this new technology called a dishwasher, right? Shiro even has one.”

“Shush, you,” he says, taking the cups from her hands and waving her off. “Sometimes it’s nice to do things low tech. Gives you a chance to wind down.”

She eyes him suspiciously, then looks over at Keith.  He offers her a shrug.  “It’s cool, we’ve got it. It’s… it’s our thing.”

“Oh, okay,” she shrugs as she wanders back outside.

Keith finds a clean tea towel and starts to dry the plates as Lance hands them over after they have been washed and rinsed.  It was a soothing ritual for them, just going through the motions and working together. They hadn’t done this in a long time, and it reminded Keith of the early days when they were still student paramedics in training, sneaking in for Sunday lunch with Lance’s abuela and sneaking home with takeaway containers full of leftovers whenever they could.  They paid their appreciation in cleaning up after the meal and the quiet conversations between them seemed to flow easiest when they didn’t have to actually look at each other.

Keith suspects this is why Lance wanted to do this now.

“You good, man?” Lance finally asks after a long moment. It’s quiet in the kitchen, the others all seated outside and enjoying the balmy spring weather and snatches of their conversation flow in faintly on the breeze. It’s a nice time of year, and it’s even nicer to have somewhere outdoors to enjoy it.

“Yeah,” Keith answers. Like Lance, he keeps his eyes trained on the task at hand. He swirls the material over the plate, then places the dried porcelain gently to the side without looking up.  “I’m good.”

“Because if you’re not-“

“I know,” he rushes to answer.  He dries another plate.  “Thanks, though.”

They work together in silence for a few moments.  A one point, Lance holds up a clean frypan and gives Keith a questioning look. “Where does this go?”

Keith blinks at him and casts a glance around the kitchen.  It wasn’t small considering the size of the townhouse, rows and rows of draws and even more cabinets.  “Your guess is as good as mine,” he finally says, helplessly.  He half expects Lance to laugh at him for that. After all, he lives here now.

Lance doesn’t though. He frowns slightly instead. “This pad is nice. A bit out of our price bracket though,” he says pointedly and Keith sighs on the inside. He knows exactly what Lance is getting at.

“Tell me about it,” he mutters to himself. He eventually takes the pan from Lance and places it back onto the stovetop. He’ll ask Shiro about it later.

“You haven’t talked about it yet, huh?”

“No,” Keith shakes his head.  It’s one of the many things they’re going to have to negotiate together now that they’re back in the real world.  A tiny part of him is comforted to know his shitty apartment is still waiting for him out there, even if he hopes he never has to see it again.  At least if reality sends their relationship into a nose dive, he’ll have somewhere still left to escape to, even if just the thought of that depresses him like nothing else.

Lance refrains from saying more, surprisingly quiet as they work.  It’s as though he knows Keith is working up to something and the space Lance gives him to work through his thoughts means that Keith speaks up sooner than he might have.

“Can I ask you something?” Keith finally asks, pausing with the last plate in his hand. 

“Sure.”

“When did you know?”

Lance doesn’t answer straight away, pulling the plug to let the water drain. He does cast a raised eyebrow in Keith’s direction as he wipes the soap suds away from the sink though.

“With Allura,” Keith clarifies.  “When did you know without a doubt that you loved her? Did… Did you ever second guess yourself?”

Keith tries to ignore the heat in his cheeks as he watches Lance shift his shoulders and his head far enough away that Keith shouldn’t have been able to see the secret smile on his lips. But he didn’t turn far enough and Keith has to bite the inside of his cheek and hope that Lance isn’t about to make a joke.

He almost feels bad for doubting him when Lance turns back to him, blue eyes serious.  Almost.

“I knew straight away. Never doubted it for a second.”

“Not even once?” Keith can’t quite keep the scepticism from his voice.

“Nope. Look, no one can deny that Allura is a babe, and I know everyone thinks I just saw a pretty face and fell in lust and pestered her until she gave me a chance but… It wasn’t like that. Not really. Do you remember that day we had to do that training simulation with the fire department? Of the crashed airliner?”

“Yeah?”

“I saw her in action there first. We couldn’t even see her face, she was covered in ashes and carrying all that heavy gear, it was so bad her hair was almost black from the soot-“

Keith casts back in his memory and something clicks. The training simulation had been gruelling and they’d been teamed up with crews they’d never worked with before. It was part of their regular training to keep their skills sharp, to prepare them in any eventuality but teaming up with the fire and rescue department meant there were very real flames licking away at their boots, even if it all had been tightly controlled in a simulation.  More than one of them had ended up suffering from a touch of smoke inhalation.  “Wait, that was Allura?”

“Yeah. And as soon as we grabbed those packs from her, as soon as I helped her into the van and gave her oxygen, I just knew. I knew, man. I knew she was going to be someone important to me. Probably break my heart-“ Lance grins.  “But I knew.”

“You never told me that,” Keith says and he’s suddenly eying Lance in a new light.  Lance snorts a little to himself. 

“What I’m trying to say is… I know it’s still early days for you guys but if it feels right, then chances are, it probably is. Doesn’t matter if you’ve been together a week or for years.”

“You make it sound easy,” Keith says then.

“Falling is the easy part. It’s the rest of it that can get hard. I love Allura- more than galaxies, she makes me better, she makes me want to _be_ better. I love going home to her. But, we still have to work at it. She’s my number one priority though. That’s why it works. Do you see what I’m saying?”

Keith feels a little taken aback under Lance’s sudden intensity. He usually reserves it for on the job, and Keith can count on one hand the amount of times he’s had it directed at him. He can see now why Lance can be so persuasive.  He’s always had a better knack for dealing with certain situations more than Keith and now he understands why. 

“Yeah,” he answers but it sounds flat and Lance picks up on it enough that he reaches out to pat Keith’s shoulder once before turning away. There’s a little grin on his face that is just this shy of indulgent and Keith suddenly feels like an inexperienced rookie.

Which, he supposed, he was in this case.

“Just… just remember, man,” Lance continues.  “Love isn’t a guarantee it’s gonna all work out. You and Shiro? Anyone with half a brain can see there’s something between you. And the way Shiro looks at you when you’re not paying attention… If he’s not all the way there yet, then he’s pretty damn close. But I know you, Keith.  You’ll probably let yourself enjoy this for a little while, then you’ll start to self -sabotage-“

“Fuck you,” Keith mutters weakly but the truth of Lance’s words itches horribly at the back of his skull. Lance sighs. The joker is well and truly buried under this new persona Keith hasn’t had a lot of experience with.

“Don’t fuck this up, man.”

Keith has to clench his jaw not to snap back but he restrains himself when the uncomfortable realisation that Lance might know him a little better than he knew himself slides across his consciousness. It was Lance who signed him up for the experiment, it was Lance to encouraged him to see it through.  It was Lance who refused to let him sign on for yet another overtime shift when he could barely stand up on his own two feet.  He probably would have worked himself into an early, lonely grave without Lance there to mediate him.

“So… So, what do I do?”

Lance pauses. A long, slow beat stretches out between them enough that Keith starts to frown. “Lance-“

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait,” Lance closes his eyes and holds up one finger. He sighs once, almost dreamily and Keith has the sudden urge to want to thump him because he looks way too smug right now.  “I just want to enjoy this.  This moment. Right here.  The prickly, independent Keith Kogane, asking _me_ for advice-“

“Dude,” Keith groans then, half on a whimper and he wonders if it sounds as pitiful to Lance as it does to himself because Lance suddenly laughs and nudges him lightly.

“Just make sure you work at it.  Every day. Make Shiro your priority. That’ll be a good start.”

Keith grumbles. “Sometimes I forget you’re a psychology major-“

“It’s because I’m too good looking. I’m so dazzling people forget I’m actually smart as fu-“

Lance yelps suddenly as the dishtowel in Keith’s hands snaps out and makes painful contact with Lance’s backside.

“I’m gonna kick your ass for that, Mullet!”

 

* * *

 

When the kitchen has been cleared of all signs from breakfast and Matt has managed to extract a promise from Lotor that Keith and Shiro will only be required to do one radio interview later in the week and all other news outlets printing anything unauthorised will be expressly met by the might of Komar HQ’s legal team, their friends (bar Hunk) say their goodbyes and prepare to head home.

Lance nudges Keith at the door. “Shift starts at six am tomorrow. You good with that?”

It’s an early start which means up probably around five but he already knows Shiro will be up at that time to head to the gym. With any luck, they might have a chance to grab a quick coffee together before they start their days. “Yeah, no sweat.”

“Cool, I’ll pick you up in the rig. At least this place is nice and close to the hub.  Boss wants a team meeting before we head out.”

Keith tries not to wrinkle his nose at the thought of the meeting. “Ugh. See you tomorrow then.”

They head out with Matt and Pidge behind them and Keith gives them a final wave before he goes back to the patio, trying not to double take when half the panels of Shiro’s arm have been removed and the metallic innards are on display. Hunk has something that looks oddly like a scalpel and he’s bending over it, his tongue halfway between his lips as he concentrates. It doesn’t seem right to performing what looks like a horribly delicate procedure out in the open at the patio table in Shiro’s backyard but he doesn’t think it’s his place to comment so he forces himself to swallow down his protest.

“Hey, Hunk, can I have a second with Shiro before you start?”

Hunk looks up, his scalpel paused in mid-air as his eyes slide from Keith to Shiro then back again. “Uh, sure. I have to grab my gear anyway.”

Keith smothers his amusement when Hunk jumps up, surprisingly light on his feet considering his sheer dominating strength and size.  Shiro was tall and broad and all muscle but even Hunk put him to shame. Hunk’s gear was already neatly spread out across the tablecloth.

Once he’s inside, Keith turns his attention to his husband. He rubs a hand over Shiro’s shoulder and Shiro glances up with grimace on his pale face that Keith knows is supposed to be a smile. He doesn’t like the paleness of Shiro’s skin or the tight line around his eyes.  He looks uncomfortable, probably in a world of hurt he won’t admit to and the medic in Keith itches to soothe it.

“Need anything?” he asks quietly.  It’s clear that Shiro is going to be stuck in the same place for a while, or at least until Hunk finishes whatever he needs to do.

“No, I’m okay,” he says but there’s a look in his eyes that seems like he’s asking for more then he glances at his lap.  Keith barely hesitates, sliding onto Shiro’s knee and bracing his hands against Shiro’s shoulders.  He rubs his thumbs against the soft skin of Shiro’s neck. There’s a pale bruise on one side, the perfect shape to match Keith’s mouth and Keith resists the urge to lean in to press his lips against it.

“Are you sure?” Keith asks and their foreheads touch as a shudder rolls through Shiro’s frame.

“Yeah,” Shiro answers softly. “This shouldn’t take any longer than an hour or so. Apparently, we brought back half the beach with us in my arm,” he jokes weakly.

“I could give you something,” Keith says then, and his brain is already ticking over the options he has available. His kit is a lot better stocked now they’re back on home soil, he could get something for Shiro that’s enough to dull the pain, or even a mild sedative to at least smooth away the tension that’s setting his nerves on edge.

“Actually, no,” Hunk says from behind them. He walks back to his seat and slumps heavily into it with a mask on his face that looks oddly like guilt.  “It would interfere with the readings too much.”

Keith’s too annoyed by Hunk’s statement to be concerned that Hunk is sitting on the other side of the table while he’s perched on Shiro’s lap.  Hunk doesn’t even look up, going back to working on Shiro’s exposed parts with another tool Keith has no hope of recognising.

“You did good though, man,” Hunk continues and it takes Keith a moment to figure out what he’s talking about.  He takes long enough to answer that Hunk _does_ glance up at him. “On the island, when you called and fixed his arm. You did good.”

Shiro’s human hand slides warmly up his arm and when Keith glances down, Shiro is smiling through his grimace. Through the pain.  “Proud of you,” he murmurs and Keith has to physically blink and drag his mind back from whatever alternate reality it was occupying because here was Shiro trying to smile through his very obvious discomfort as Hunk cleaned the internals and… and they were praising _him?!_

Something about that refuses to sit right and he ends up rising to his feet.  Shiro looks disappointed to lose the contact but Keith thinks to hell with it, and he leans forward to curl an arm around the back of Shiro’s neck and bend down to brush his lips over his forehead.  “I’ll get you some water,” he murmurs before he moves away, but it’s more for himself than anything else.

 

* * *

 

In the early evening they don’t stray far from home. Dinner had been supplied courtesy of Colleen and a well-stocked freezer and they’d already eaten and stacked away the dishes into the machine. Keith wipes down the benchtop diligently as Shiro leans against the large double doored fridge with a bottle of water in his hand.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed, by the way.”

Keith pauses mid wipe and raises an eyebrow. “Uh, what?”

Shiro gestures at the townhouse with the bottle in one hand.  The cap is in his other and the water inside sloshes just enough to cause a drop to fall to the floor but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“You’re very… neat.”

That makes Keith laugh to himself and Shiro looks at him curiously.  “Something funny?” he asks, and then it’s his turn to raise an eyebrow.  Keith chuckles again as he carries the sponge to the sink and gives it a quick rinse.  He places it to the side and dries his hands on his jeans as he turns back around.

“I’m not, actually,” he says.  “But I grew up with three veterans. So, I get it.”

Keith watches Shiro’s face as the realisation seems to click. Keith assumes it’s just one of the many reasons they got paired together.

“Well,” Shiro says quietly after a moment.  He stares down at the bottle in his hand, his metallic thumb rubbing over the condensation forming on the side.  “Thank you.  I appreciate it.”

Keith takes a few steps closer, reaching out for the bottle and taking it from Shiro’s hand to place it on the counter behind them.  Then he twines their fingers together thoughtfully.  There’s a lot they still need to talk about, so many heavy conversations they need to map out what their future is going to look like together but tonight he just wants to keep things light.  They had plenty of time for the nitty gritty, didn’t they?

“Come on, let’s watch some TV. I need some down time before I’m back on shift tomorrow.”

Shiro seems relieved at that suggestion and he lets Keith lead him over to the lounge and they kick off their shoes to sprawl on opposite ends of the couch.

“What are you doing?” Keith demands, when Shiro plonks himself down and shoves a pile of cushions between them.

“I’m too tired to be your love slave tonight, I’m installing some protection.”

“Love slave? That’s a new one.”

“If I touch you, I’ll want to drag you upstairs.”

“Who says we have to go upstairs?” Keith raises his eyebrows then gives them a wiggle and Shiro waves a dismissive finger at him.

“This is what I get for marrying a younger man, isn’t it? This is my punishment.”

For some reason, Keith finds this hysterically funny and he cracks up. “You’re only four years ahead of me, Shiro.”

“Feels like four decades,” Shiro mutters and he lowers himself down with an overly dramatic groan. 

It makes Keith relieved to see Shiro’s playful side come back, he’d been fairly flat this afternoon, still trying to work through the residual pain from the tinkering from his arm. Keith offered again to give him something for the pain and after going into medic mode and badgering him, Shiro finally agreed and the change had been almost instantaneous. He had his husband back.

Keith can’t hold back his laughter as he settles in, his back snugly against the corner of the couch’s L shaped configuration while Shiro plants himself at one end.  The pile of pillows promptly goes flying when Keith tries to stretch one socked foot towards Shiro’s face but he doesn’t quite have the reach to have any effect. It proves to be a bad decision to try because it gives Shiro the idea to return the favour but this time he _does_ have the reach and Keith ends up with a foot in his face.

“Get away,” he splutters as Shiro lets out something that sounds like an evil laugh.

He shoves Shiro’s ankle down onto his lap. Shiro doesn’t end up moving it again and Keith ends up absently massaging it as Shiro reaches for the remote to flip on the TV.  It throws splashes of colour over them but it’s down so low they can barely hear it, neither of them paying it any attention anyway.  Not when Keith manages to ungracefully reach for the coffee table to snatch off the photo album resting there.

“So, this is baby Takashi is it?” Keith says as he flips open the cover of the small album. It takes him a few beats to realise how still Shiro has gone and his eyes snap up worriedly. “Shit, did I say it wrong-“

“No,” Shiro laughs then. “No, it… it’s just… It’s nice. Hearing it in your voice. Say it again.”

Keith tries not to smile as he says it, relishing the soft expression on Shiro’s face as he forms the word once again. “Takashi.”

It’s almost as though Shiro needs a moment to compose himself.  He pauses briefly and his eyes slide closed long enough for him to inhale and then when they open again, he’s smiling and nodding at the book in Keith’s hands. Keith files that away for later, knowing he’s going to be uttering it the next time they’re entwined together.

“Yeah, I figured baby photos was something we had to swap at some point. Might as well get the pain with over sooner than later.”

“Aw,” Keith grins as he flips the pages. There actually aren’t too many but it’s a brief snapshot into the highlights of Shiro’s childhood.  He’s a chubby faced toddler on one page, a serious school student the next and then after that, he’s standing beside Matt in the Garrison’s enlisted orange and white, young and bright and staring into the camera lens with smiles so wide they make Keith’s heart ache.  He doesn’t realise he’s running a finger over the image until Shiro nudges him with the foot still on his lap.

“Where are yours?” Shiro asks then.  It’s hard to tell but in the glow of the TV, Shiro’s cheeks almost look pink. As it is, he’s not meeting Keith’s eyes.

“Haven’t got any,” he says casually and he shrugs with nonchalance before he shuts the album and places it gently back onto the coffee table.

When he looks up, Shiro’s eying him incredulously. 

“So, you’re saying that you don’t have a single childhood photo handy? Not even on social media?”

“Nope, don’t think so.”

Shiro gives him a look that clearly indicates he knows Keith is bullshitting. Keith tries to smile sweetly but Shiro rolls his eyes on a smirk and then he’s not able to hold back the laughter. The laugh fades when Shiro examines the fingertips of his bionic hand idly. The suddenly sly look on his face has sets an alarm bell ringing at the back of Keith’s mind.

“You and Lance have been friends for a long time though, huh?”

Keith narrows his eyes suspiciously then. “Yeah…”

“You know, he gave me his number earlier. I bet he’d love to show me some embarrassing childhood photo-“

“Don’t you dare!”

“How about I call him, see what he’s got stas-OW! Shit, what was that?”

Keith’s got his hand above Shiro’s ankle, slipped in under his jeans. He yanks on a small patch of Shiro’s leg hair until he yells again, but it’s not hard, just enough to make Shiro half shout and half laugh.  “I forgot you’re not above fighting dirty-“

“It’s not fighting dirty, it’s situational awareness. Using what you’ve got on hand to fight back with,” Keith says smugly. “You should know about that, Mr Combat Specialist.”

“Oh, I’ll be sure to add yanking sensitive leg hairs to the curriculum should we ever encounter a hostile alien force,” Shiro says sarcastically and Keith threatens him with another yank.

“Don’t make me do it again, Shirogane-“

“Okay, okay, wow, I didn’t realise you were so touchy about baby photos-“ Shiro pulls his leg back and Keith lets him go without fighting it too much.

“UGH, FINE,” Keith finally groans out dramatically a moment later. “I might have one. Or two. Somewhere.”

He doesn’t like the way Shiro looks like he’s almost salivating in anticipation. “Stop it, you’re being weird.”

Shiro’s still laughing when he tries to hand over the phone but he snatches it back and cradles it to his chest until Shiro schools his face into something more serious. His eyes are still dancing, enough to make Keith suspicious, and enough that he’s hesitant when he hands it over.  This was so dumb.  Why Shiro cares so much, he doesn’t understand.

“Oh,” Shiro says softly and Keith can’t quite work out the expression on his face.  “Oh, Keith.”

“What?” he says it in alarm, confused as to why a photo of him in his childhood years would elicit such a concerning reaction.  He panics briefly, wondering if he’d left it open to the wrong image or something. God, he deleted all those dick pics, didn’t he?

“Oh, this is… Keith,” Shiro shakes his head then covers his mouth with one hand as he lets out a soft gasp. Okay, now Keith is really concerned.  He scrambles up just as Shiro yells out.  “Look at those adorable chubby cheeks! So cute!”

“Shut up!”

Keith doesn’t know if he should hide behind a cushion or try to liberate his phone. He goes for the phone first, in which his husband has no qualms about using his ridiculous height and wingspan against him and he holds the phone up in one hand out of Keith’s reach and places his other hand against Keith’s chest to hold him back.  “You know if we have kids, they’re going to be fucking adorable-“

Keith freezes. 

Shiro freezes.

The TV suddenly sounds ominously loud.

He can almost hear Shiro cringe inwardly.  “Keith-“

Keith makes his stuttering brain push his limbs backwards, until he’s shuffling back against the couch.  Shiro lowers his arms, the humour sapped from his cheeks to be replaced by regret.  “Keith, I’m sorry, that was-“

“No, look. I know I get weird when the talk of kids comes up. But-”

“I’m sorry, I’m not trying to pressure you. I stand by what I said that night. If you don’t want them, that’s okay-“

“Will you give me a chance to talk,” Keith mutters and Shiro immediately goes quiet. In the sudden silence, Keith struggles to organise his thoughts. After a moment of worrying his lip and seeing the regret deepen on Shiro’s face, he finally manages to bring himself to elaborate. “You want them, right?”

Shiro hesitates, as though searching for the answer that will cause the least bit of aggravation. Keith hopes he goes with the truth.

“I don’t know,” he finally says honestly and Keith breathes a sigh of relief.  Honesty he can deal with. Empty platitudes he had no time for.  “Maybe? One day. I don’t know how I’ll feel in five to ten years about that. But I’m pretty confident that what I feel about you is just going to grow and get stronger. And _you’re_ what I wanted from this experiment. Anything else is a bonus.”

It takes a few moments for those words to sink in and something pricks behind Keith’s eyes that might be tears. Tears because he’s not sure what he’s done to deserve someone like Shiro and he’s suddenly pathetically grateful that he has his man in his life now.

His hand crawls blindly against the cushions to seek out Shiro’s and Shiro links their fingers and tugs gently in invitation when he finds its. Then Shiro is curling his arms around him and resting his cheek against Keith’s hair and Keith finds himself half sprawled in Shiro’s lap, but warm and surrounded and secure.

“But what if I wanted to?” he says quietly and his voice cracks.

If he hadn’t had his head against Shiro’s chest, he would have missed the sharp inhale of breath. It gives him courage to continue and strangely his heart begins to hammer out a thunderous beat. “I can’t promise that I will, I can’t. Not now but… with you… I don’t- I don’t want to rule it out. Not if it’s something that’s important to you.”

“Keith,” Shiro sighs it out and it sounds like gratitude.  Shiro squeezes him, then tips his face up and then he’s kissing him so tenderly and sweetly Keith feels dizzy enough that he can’t fight back the pricks behind his eyes and he’s suddenly emotional at the thought of them becoming parents, creating a smaller version of the two of them blended together. The technology was there now. If they wanted, they could do it.  “When it’s time, we’ll decide together okay.  We’re a team now.”

Shiro’s kissing him again when there’s the jingle of a bell and suddenly Black is strolling along the back of the couch.  He pauses long enough to sniff at Keith’s hair before hoping down and curling up in the space Keith had previously vacated now that he was back in Shiro’s lap.

So much for keeping their hands to themselves. 

“Shiro,” he whispers it against Shiro’s mouth and his husband pulls back enough to regard him quizzically. Keith has to swallow back the lump in his throat.  “You’ve made me so happy, too.”


	38. one plus one, two for life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw because apparently i've lost all control of my life  
> consider this a bonus chapter because i wasn't going to do this but... I’m still sick and needed something to make me feel better so I bashed this out as a word sprint– might be a little rough and basically just nsfw indulgence because... damnit, I don't need an excuse

Keith is already in bed by the time Shiro switches off the bathroom light and pads into their bedroom.  The sight of him bare chested and sitting cross-legged on the sheets with his head bowed as he thumbs through his phone and bathed in the golden light of the lamp makes Shiro’s breath catch in his throat.  It’s a sight he wants to etch into his memory to look back on when he’s old and grey because this moment right here… it’s more of the pieces of his life clicking into place, slotting easily into the spaces that he hadn’t realised were waiting.

He leans against the door jam, crossing his arms as he takes in the scene and it’s a moment before Keith looks up.  The light catches the tone of his muscles as he flashes Shiro a smile and leans over to slide his phone into its dock, ready for it to charge overnight.  Shiro’s almost disappointed to see the line of black around his hips, wishing Keith was completely naked instead but then reminding himself how entertaining it will be to slowly peel them off him.

Keith seems to catch the river of this thoughts as they slide past because he raises an eyebrow and his lips twitch.

“I thought you were too tired,” he says, then he uncrosses his legs to stretch out and lean back against the headboard.  He clasps his hands over the bulge in his boxers casually and Shiro’s fairly confident that if he moved them away, he’d already be half swollen and ready for more.

“So, did I,” he answers as he peels himself upright.  “But suddenly I seem to have found a new lease on life. In the form of this really cute-"

“I’m not cute. I’ll kick your ass,” Keith mutters as he slides into the sheets beside him. Shiro bites back a laugh.

“Not cute, got it.”

Keith makes a little noise of satisfaction.  Shiro leans back against the headboard then and they’re side by side but without actually touching.

Keith slides him a glance after a moment.  He looks put out enough that Shiro has to bite back his smirk.

“Weak,” Keith retorts with a disdainful sniff but the twist of his lips indicates he’s throwing down a challenge he’s not about to back down from. Shiro’s tired, but he’s half aroused, half unsteady with contentment and when the spark shines in Keith’s eye, a flare inside himself answers.

“Are you trying to pick a fight?” Shiro asks mildly.  He can see the game starting to take shape and Keith’s lips twitch again as he looks away.

“Are you looking to lose again?” Keith trash talks back, taunting Shiro.  Shiro eyes him then moves too fast for even Keith to counter. He hauls Keith into his lap and pins his arms behind his back with the weight of his metal arm.

“What was that again?”

The air turns heavy with the spark of electricity between them. The lights could blink out in a city wide blackout but their room would have enough power to reignite suns.  Shiro watches with bated breath as Keith’s tongue slips out to lick his lips.  He almost wants to moan at the sight.

“Come on, then,” Keith whispers, his eyes darker than pools of obsidian.  “Fuck me, Takashi.”

Whatever thin vein of control Shiro was holding onto snapped and he growls low in his chest as the part taunt, part invitation washes over his senses.  It awakens something inside him, something that’s been dormant for a long, long time.  Something that he’d never thought he’d be confident enough to share with Keith, but suddenly, desperately, he wants to.

He grasps Keith by the wrists, hauling him off the bed and into his arms. He lays down a punishing kiss, his hands grasping the globes of Keith’s backside as he reefs him up. Keith has to balance on tiptoes to met his tongue thrust for thrust but he pushes back with a power that Shiro has come to expect from him. He loves this. He loves the challenge Keith offers him, the sheer force behind him. Keith is a firestorm personified and Shiro is fast learning how to stoke him until he is burning white hot, or to soothe him until he is nothing but blistering, glowing embers languid in the night. 

Keith shoves against him again and Shiro pulls himself back. Keith tries to follow with a whimper but Shiro turns him, nudging him to where he wants to go.  Keith shifts towards the bed but Shiro halts him even as he’s reaching under the pillow for their small stash.  Keith blinks, the haze of lust on his face mirroring the faint confusion in his eyes.  Shiro gestures to the floor, towards the rug at the end of the bed but he’s not surprised when Keith doesn’t seem to understand what he wants.

“This way,” he says and he almost doesn’t recognise the harshness in his own voice.  He curls the fingers of his bionic hand around Keith’s bicep, marvelling dimly at the back of his mind at the way they almost encompass his entire muscle and manhandles him with enough care to still be gentle until Keith is naked and on his knees on the rug. The black boxers catch on one of his ankles where Shiro couldn’t tug them away far enough.  “Wait here,” he breathes into Keith’s ear when he has him in the position he wants and then pulls his own clothes off.  Why either of them bothered to dress after their shower earlier, he didn’t know.  It ended up being a waste of time.

He drops to his knees and slides up close to pull Keith against him, his husband’s leanly muscled back up against his own broader chest.  Keith’s all narrow lines and sharp angles, but he’s beautiful in that symmetry. And he’s given over to Shiro in the way his body seems to tremble ever so slightly.

“You know the only time I’ll ever kick you out of bed is to fuck you on the floor, right?” he says into Keith’s ear and it makes Keith’s shoulders shake in a breathless laugh. It seems to bring him back enough to the moment that he draws his hand upwards and hooks his palm over the back of Shiro’s neck and it makes his back arch deliciously enough that Shiro can’t help the slow roll of his hips against Keith.  His scorching length lays against the small of Keith’s back like a brand.

“Stop talking about it and do it already,” Keith snaps back, his voice rough. He digs his fingers into Shiro’s neck a little harder to emphasise his point.  Shiro’s not sure how he’s not tasting blood by the way he bites his lip, especially when Keith uses his spare hand to stroke himself.

Shiro had plans. He did, he had wanted to draw this out, he wanted to see how far they could push this line between them but Keith bucked back on him, teasing him enough he almost saw stars and then Keith whispered his name again in that sweet, husky tone and Shiro was gone, he was lost.

He fumbled with the lube enough to slick himself down, then smear some onto his fingers.  There was a low hiss from Keith as he pushed them inside, trembling as he stretched Keith open and the ache between his legs intensified enough that he had to pause and rest a sweaty forehead against the back of his husband’s shoulder.  “Keith,” he warns low and it’s apologetic and tortured because he wants this to last, he wants this to be good but every sensation is too much. He’s not even inside Keith yet but the flex of those muscles against his fingers alone is almost enough to make him come.

“Come on,” Keith urges. “I need the burn.”

That’s all Shiro needs to bend him down, until Keith is propped up on his elbows, his ass in the air.  The dark strands of his hair splay out against the pale rug and his eyes widen then squeeze shut as Shiro glides his way inside. _Fuck, it feels so good_ and he’s panting with the sheer strain of trying not to come right there and then.

“Okay?” he gasps and he realises he’s leaning into Keith too hard so he shifts his weight back.  “Okay, baby?” he tries again and Keith nods against the rug, eyes still closed and lips slack as he snakes one hand under himself.  Shiro wants to move but one thrust tells him Keith is going to end up with a streak of carpet burn on his cheek on his first day back at work if Shiro doesn’t at least help him back up onto his elbows at least. 

Maybe the floor wasn’t such a good idea after all. 

“Baby,” he tries again, trying to shift them both.  He briefly considers pulling out long enough to throw Keith back onto the bed but the yank against the white tuft of his hair and Keith’s low snarl quickly squashes that idea and then Keith is bucking back, clearly having had enough of waiting for Shiro to get his act together. Keith was wild like this, too impatient to bother with finesse and Shiro promises himself they’ll take it slower next time, that he’ll splay Keith open with the care he deserves next time, but for now-

Shiro’s brain sizzles enough that he wonders if his tech was screwing up again but no, there it is again and he realises that it’s Keith.  It’s Keith sliding himself into his own rhythm and Shiro can only brace himself against the impact.

 _Holy shit._ Keith rocks forwards, then backwards and Shiro is completely mesmerized by the sight of himself disappearing then reappearing into Keith’s body as his husband fucks himself on him. “Yeah,” he dimly hears Keith gasp. “Yeah, Shiro- Takashi, yeah, _fuck-“_

It’s an effort to hold himself still but he rests his hands on Keith’s hips, keeping his arms loose as Keith moves, moving them with him as they go along for the ride.  Keith speeds up and Shiro’s hands travel down, this time kneading the muscle of Keith’s ass, spreading him open so he doesn’t miss a beat as Keith picks up his pace. Shiro’s knees ache faintly against the hard floor but he ignores it, the sight and feel of Keith rocking himself on Shiro pushing away anything else from his mind.

It’s not long when Keith shudders, a spasm rolling over his lithe frame all that Shiro needs to completely loose control himself.  He grasps Keith’s hips, taking the final few drives he needs to come and then he’s pressing his sweaty forehead into the space between Keith’s shoulder blades as he spills himself.  He can still feel Keith trembling and he uses the last of his energy to gather Keith close and tilt them sideways until they’re on their sides and sprawled on the floor. They’re both too boneless to care how uncomfortable it is.

“Sorry. Ruined your rug,” Keith mumbles after a few moments.

“You don’t sound sorry at all,” Shiro answers lazily.  Keith makes a slight snuffling sound that might have been a laugh.

“Nope.”

“You can pick out a new one,” Shiro murmurs and his eyelids feel heavy enough he wonders if he might actually end up sleeping on the floor.

“But seriously, Shiro. The floor?” Keith’s voice cuts through his fatigue.  “There’s a perfectly good bed right there, and you picked the floor?”

“Fuck,” Shiro can’t help but laugh into Keith’s shoulder at the indignation in his husband’s voice. It feels good to laugh after that intensity, even in spite of his tiredness. Keith laughs with him and in the back of his mind, yet another box finds a tick.  “I had plans, okay. But then you had to go and be too impatient and impossible to resist and I couldn’t help myself.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to sleep on the damn floor,” Keith grumbles but the laughter is still colouring the edges of his words.  Shiro’s heart feels too big in his chest, he almost can’t move.

“Keith,” he says quietly but when the silence stretches between them, he can’t make his voice cooperated and his jaw works silently.  Keith looms over to meld their mouths together and Shiro tangles his hand into his hair to anchor him. There’s something he wants to say but the words don’t seem to be able to form themselves yet so he pours it into the kiss instead.  When they draw apart, Keith’s gaze is soft and his lips are pink and swollen.

“There is one thing,” Keith says quietly against his skin.  Shiro has to strain to hear him. “I’ll be able to feel you on me all day tomorrow. Maybe I won’t miss you as much.”

Shiro swallows.  Why does Keith make his throat go so dry so easily?  Even his eyes sting and the thinks he must be more tired than he thought to be this emotional. Or maybe it’s just Keith drawing it out of him.

“You’re going to miss me?”

Keith props himself up on one elbow.  His hair falls forward to drape over one eye and Shiro resists the urge to push it back.  “It’s a safe bet,” he shrugs and looks faintly embarrassed.  Shiro wants to say more, but Keith is peeling himself off the floor and reaching down to offer a helping hand to Shiro.

He groans a little more dramatically than he needs to when he gets to his feet and Keith disappears long enough clean himself down then he’s following Shiro into the sheets and nestling up against Shiro’s back. 

Shiro’s asleep as soon as his eyes close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neither Shiro, nor myself planned for Keith to take over like the bossy little shit he is but... there you go ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	39. heart stays patient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so when I started writing this story, I didn’t really plan for it to turn into what it has and I’ve been building it all up as I go so I’m really hoping my attempts at the world building make sense. It should all get expanded on as the fic goes on. It probably won’t be everyone’s cup of tea but I’m just going to keep plowing ahead with this because stuff is rough at the moment and this my best escape.
> 
> (also, if it helps, my faceclaim for human!Trigel is Dichen Lachman)

art by [91939Art](https://sheithmafsau.tumblr.com/post/174087777806/91939art-mafs-au-fic-link-sheith-just)

* * *

 

The next morning, Keith’s just pulling on his black undershirt and tucking it into his heavy uniform pants when Shiro jogs into the bathroom, panting heavily and dripping deliciously with sweat after his workout. He gives Keith a quick kiss on the nose in greeting before stepping back out of reach. He laughs when Keith frowns at him.

“I’m all sweaty and you look almost ready for work,” he offers Keith by way of apology when Keith’s disappointment at not getting more shows on his face.  Keith can’t help it, his fingers twitch to haul Shiro closer.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d see you before I left, you were gone before I woke up,” Keith answers. He tries not to sound sulky about it but he’d be lying if he said he was pleased to wake up alone.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you any earlier than I had to. It’s obscenely early as it is.”

Shiro flashes him a smile as he peels the black compression gear over his head and dumps it on the floor. It makes the shock of white at his forehead stick up adorably and Keith’s fingers itch to smooth it down. At least they get to snatch this small amount of time together before their days start. He can hardly believe their wedding is done, the honeymoon is over and the weekend is gone and now it’s back to the real world and learning about each other’s routines and habits in earnest.

“Is this when you usually start your day?” Keith asks. The digital readout on the mirror that offers the daily forecast also glows _5:46am._

Shiro nods as he flips on the shower and fiddles with the controls.  “Yep. Wow, how do you stand the water that hot? It’s like lava.”

“It’s to warm my cold, dead heart,” Keith replies seriously then laughs at the exasperated look Shiro throws him.  He leans one hip against the sink and folds his arms, settling in to enjoy the view as Shiro strips down.

“Baby, there’s nothing cold or dead about you,” Shiro replies distractedly and Keith snorts to himself.

Shiro spends a moment more to program the shower to his own setting and it occurs to Keith he’s probably never had to use a second setting on it before. Or a third… one for each of them, then one for when they share, all with varying temperatures.  Shiro doesn’t like too much heat, it makes his arm too uncomfortable but Keith prefers it scalding.  Up until now when they share, they simply meet somewhere in the middle.

Shiro pauses with his thumbs hooked under the elastic of his snug fitting pants and he lifts an eyebrow. 

“Are you just going to watch?” he says. Behind him, the shower is already filling with a steamy fog. 

Keith grins, completely at ease with ogling his husband. “Yup.”

Keith’s smug smile makes Shiro laugh even as he blushes slightly. Keith doesn’t understand it, Shiro is all finely formed muscle and broad shoulders and he’s beautiful and strong in ways other men could barely come close to but so often, it’s as though he can’t see it past the scarring on his skin or the tech of his arm.

“Okay, but I feel like you’re about to stick a handful of credits down my pants looking at me like that,” Shiro mutters, breaking Keith out of his stare.  Shiro peels the black material down his thighs before kicking out of them and shoving it all into the nearby hamper. 

“Damn,” Keith says softly.  “I should have showered slower.”

Shiro flashes him an amused look as he steps into the shower.  The steam curls around his body and his lips twist into a small smile.  “I should have run home faster.”

Yeah, okay, Keith admits.  It was a good thing Shiro hadn’t woken him this morning, because he still wanted him every time he looked at his husband. He still craved him. Still wanted to imprint himself on him so that Shiro would carrying him around and think of him all day.

He brushes his teeth just as Shiro starts to belt out a tune into a shampoo bottle. He learned about Shiro’s tendency to sing in the shower on just the second day of their marriage but this was the first time he’d actually experienced it and the butchering of a classic song has him chuckling to himself as he slips back into the bedroom to finish dressing.

Shiro hits a particularly high note as he shuts the bathroom door behind him.

“Does he always do this?” Keith asks Black as he buttons up his uniform shirt. The cat is curled up at the foot of the bed but the he just stands up to stretch out his black and white paws in front of him in lieu of an answer. 

Keith heads downstairs with Black on his heels, still laughing to himself at the faint strains of Shiro still singing in the shower leak through the walls. Getting ready for his shift had never been so entertaining, normally he was showered and dressed and out the door without a second thought but now he finds himself wanting to linger. 

Black meows at him in the kitchen.

“Guess you’re looking for breakfast, huh?” 

Black trots confidently pantry and Keith follows, spending a few moments acquainting himself with Black’s preferences.  The cat weaves through Keith’s feet, almost tripping him up until Keith finally lays down the bowl of food and then Black promptly forgets Keith’s existence. 

 

* * *

 

Still riding high on the endorphins from his run and his workout, Shiro doesn’t waste anytime getting dressed.  He’s still humming under his breath as he slips his dog tags over his head and tucks them under his shirt, giving the bracelet Keith had given him on their honeymoon a regretful glance as he tucks it away in a special spot in the walk-in robe.  The galaxy garrison’s rules are strict on items like that but there’s no rule about his wedding ring so at least he still has that.

He pads down the staircase, faltering to a stop halfway and needing a moment to take in the sight in front of him.  It’s a very different atmosphere in the living space compared to a week or so ago.  With the muted tv shedding colour along one wall, Keith in the kitchen giving Black a preoccupied pat as he eats and the smell of coffee in the air, his townhouse finally feels like a home. 

Keith must hear the creak of the stairs because he looks up to settle his gaze on Shiro and he smiles warmly.

“Well, look at you,” Keith says with a grin.  “I mean, I’ve seen the photos but seeing you in uniform in person is a whole other thing. Wow.”

Shiro tries not to let the flush of pleasure show on his cheeks at Keith’s open admiration. “This old thing?” he answers dismissively. “I don’t know. Never really thought grey was my colour.”

Keith snickers at that then holds up a coffee mug in question but Shiro shakes his head.  He eyes Keith as Keith grabs a mug for himself and comes out of the kitchen, stepping around the long counter and into the living space. This time it’s Shiro’s turn to do a double take.

Unlike Keith, Shiro hadn’t even seen photos of his husband at work so laying eyes on him in his paramedic uniform for the first time makes something twist low in his gut. It’s yet another side to his husband he’s still learning about and there’s almost a strange kind of disconnect when he takes in the calm way Keith moves, like he’s slipped on comfortable armour and he’s completely at ease inside it.  He cuts a striking figure, his hair tied back at his nape, heavy boots under his uniform that is such a deep navy that it looks almost black. There are silver bands etched into the material around each limb, presumably reflective strips and Keith has the sleeves casually rolled halfway up, giving Shiro a glimpse of leanly muscled forearms.  Shiro doesn’t feel quite so bad when he realises Keith has had to remove his bracelet too but the wedding band still sits snug against his finger.

Shiro taps the patch on Keith’s shoulder when he comes close, fingertips running over the badge edged in orange of his status as a medic and first responder proudly on display.  Then Shiro’s eyes fall to Keith’s name, embroidered in white on the right side of his shirt.

_Kogane._

He wonders if it will ever say something different and he realises it’s another subject to add to the pile of Things They Still Need to Talk about.

“You look so good,” Shiro says. There’s a tug of emotion at the back of his throat when he thinks back to their honeymoon and the care Keith had administered and the pride that blooms in his chest is almost uncomfortable. Keith looks so good Shiro can’t wait to get his hands on him again, but there’s more to their attraction than just the physical.

“Uh, thanks,” Keith all but squirms under Shiro’s admiration and Shiro’s thoughts turn sly. He ducks his head and puts on a fake groan.

“Keith. I… I think I’m having some chest pains…”

He must have been too convincing because Keith suddenly sounds alarmed and Shiro tries not to laugh under his breath. Not yet.

“Shiro? What’s going on?”

Shiro places his hand on his chest and lets out a poorly acted out gasp just as Keith reaches for him. “I need medical assistance, you have to check me over-“

He breaks off with a chuckle when Keith growls and gives him a light shove. 

“You ass,” he mutters.  “Don’t worry, Lance will be here soon. He can check you over.”

Shiro drops his hand, laughing easily now. “That’s cold, baby,” he shakes his head and grins but Keith shoots him a glance that actually seems kind of regretful.

“Self preservation,” Keith states, shifting away from Shiro and making his way into the lounge room with his coffee mug in his hands. “If I touch you, neither of us will be on time for work.”

“I do seem to have that effect on you, huh. Last night was-“

He doesn’t get to finish what he’s about to say when Keith suddenly huffs.

“Don’t talk to me about that,” Keith grumbles. “My knees still hurt.”

“Just your knees?” Shiro says under his breath, trying to hold back an ungraceful snicker and Keith shifts his head just enough to glare at him. The spark in his husband’s eye makes something well up inside him, a burst of affection and warmth that makes him feel like he’s on cloud nine. He loves their banter, he loves Keith’s sass.  He loves that Keith isn’t afraid to take what he wants, but then again, neither is he.

“I’ll make it up to you tonight,” he promises Keith, pouring heat and meaning into his words as he utters them softly.  The fight melts out of Keith and the furrow between his brows goes soft.  He takes yet another sip of his coffee then lowers it with a shake of his head.

“This is crazy,” he says and Shiro hesitates, not quite sure what he means. Keith sends him a sideways glance he can’t read. “This,” and he gestures vaguely around him.

“I’m not following.”

Keith huffs again, then chews his lip as he searches for a way to articulate his thoughts.  “Two weeks ago, I didn’t know you existed-“

“Yes, you did. You just didn’t know who I was.”

“What?”

“Your match. Your… soulmate?”

Keith’s eyebrows shoot up and Shiro suddenly wonders where that thought that fell out of his mouth came from.

“I thought you didn’t believe in that stuff. You… you seemed kind of vague last time we talked about it.”

Shiro follows Keith into the lounge room but neither of them sit. The tv is still muted but they both ignore it.  Shiro feels like there’s something heavy in his chest that needs to fight its way out and his heartrate unexpectedly kicks up. 

“I can’t deny the proof in front of me,” Shiro says quietly.

There’s something hopeful in Keith’s expression that makes Shiro swallow. “So, you think the science got it right? That… That we’re soulmates?” 

Shiro hadn’t quite been planning to get so deep right now, not this early when they’re both about to go their separate ways for the day so he tries to reign himself in.

“I mean, it’s not perfect,” he says with a shrug.  “Nothing is ever perfect-“

“Yeah, you have terrible taste in movies,” Keith cuts in, hiding a grin behind his mug.  Shiro blinks then narrows his eyes.

“You snore.”

“Your jokes suck,” Keith counters.

“You’ve got a bossy streak.”

“Ah, no. Those are _leadership qualities_ ,” Keith states haughtily.  “You of all people should recognize that, _Lieutenant_ Shirogane.”

“Problems with authority,” Shiro utters incredulously and Keith pulls a face.

“Your singing in the shower is terrible. I’m surprised no one called the cops.”

Shiro barks out a laugh at that one. Then he leans in, ghosting his breath over Keith’s cheek as he lowers his voice.

“You’re beautiful, and you make me so happy.”

The hitch in Keith’s breathing as he hangs his head makes them both still. It goes quiet, a long beat of silence thrums out between them. Shiro tries to give Keith a moment, getting the sense that Keith is working through something.  Either that or the mug of coffee in his hands has become suddenly incredibly fascinating and Keith might just want to be married to it instead.

“Shiro, I-“

The rap on the door makes them both startle.  Shiro’s hand snaps out to help Keith steady his hand so his coffee doesn’t slosh all over the couch and then he’s cursing on the inside when Keith slips away, pausing only to place his mug down before reaching the door. He feels abruptly frustrated, like they were on the cusp of something important and he’s not sure what.

An echo of Keith’s voice when they had played laser tag skipped through his mind before he shakes it away.

Keith opens the door and Lance steps inside. He hovers by the doorway. “You ready, man? Oh, hey Shiro.”

“Hey, Lance.”

“I almost didn’t recognize you in uniform. You look kinda intimidating. You’re not going to start barking orders at me are you?”

Shiro hears a small strangled sound come from Keith and he resists the urge to smirk.  “No but how are you two so chipper at this time of the morning?”

“Lance had to cut down on his beauty sleep for this shift,” Keith grins at him but Lance scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Never compromise the beauty sleep, I was in bed by eight last night,” he says dismissively. 

Shiro isn’t entirely sure if he’s joking.

“Give me a minute,” Keith says to Lance but Lance is pointing at the tv. 

“You guys been watching this?” he asks with a frown.

Both Shiro and Keith turn to it. It had been playing in the background up until now but it was muted and they’d been too focused on each other to pay any attention to the scrolling text across the screen. 

“What’s going on?” he asks as they huddle around. Keith lifts a hand and motions, unmuting the tv. They’d spent time yesterday to attune the townhouse’s home systems to Keith’s presence and now the tech recognized him as well as Shiro.

“Protestors at the garrison bases again,” Lance answers, his voice subdued. 

“Which base?” Shiro asks, his tone a little sharper than he meant it to be. “Ours?”

Lance shakes his head.  “No, further up north.”

It’s not the first time a protest has made the news but the frequency and the intensity of them is increasing.

“They’re getting more vocal,” Keith says quietly. 

The footage on screen changes from the newscaster’s face to some kind of rally taking place.

 _“We cannot just stand by while the galaxy garrison treats us like this!”_ a man yells. _“Who are they to dictate who owns space? The galaxy garrison’s failed colonies on Luna and Mars are proof of their greed, they’re trying to militarize space, and who loses out? Earth-“_

Shiro frowns heavily at the footage of the protestor screaming into the mic, a swarm of supporters around them. They’re pressed up against the outer ring of security of the garrison’s base, a simple chain-link fence as a physical deterrent before the more secure and invisible features kick in.  In the distance, one of the shuttles looms against its moorings, presumably being prepped for take-off in a few short days.  For some reason, he feels distinctly uncomfortable standing there in his garrison greys while the news report speculates on how valid the protesters concerns might be.

“Shit, look at the time. We gotta run,” Lance shakes himself off. He gives Keith a punch on the shoulder to draw his attention.  “Come on, I’m driving.”

“Great,” Keith answers dryly.  He pulls a face and doesn’t bother trying to hide it.  Lance glares at him.

“Hey, until you get that flaming death trap out of my garage, you have to ride with me so quit complaining.”

“Flaming death trap?” Shiro echoes, ignoring the news report and the heaviness in the pit of his stomach it causes. 

Lance folds his arms across his chest, looking distinctly annoyed.  “Yeah. Keith’s bike. Do you know how many motorbike fatalities we see? And this idiot had to go out and buy one.”

“It’s fast,” Keith mutters.  He goes to put his mug into the dishwasher in the kitchen as Lance turns to Shiro and throws his hands out.  “It’s the best way to get through traffic quickly-“

“It’s a death trap, Shiro,” Lance whines.  “A death-trap.”

“Why are you looking at Shiro for?” Keith demands then.  “He’s my husband, not my _father-“_

“Hey, I don’t know what kind of funky stuff you’re into-“

“Jesus Christ, Lance. I’m going throw you down those stairs if you don’t shut the hell up.”

Shiro tries not to laugh at their bickering but he hopes that he’ll get a moment for a quiet goodbye with Keith before he leaves.  Keith must have the same thought because he gives Lance a very pointed look before Lance straightens.

“Oh. Oh! Right. Okay, I’ll see you in the rig then,” Lance grins and he winks at Keith before trotting back out the door. “Bye, Shiro!”

Keith waits until the door clicks shut before he reaches up to curl his fingers into the short buzz at the back of Shiro’s neck, tugging him downwards. Shiro resists slightly and Keith’s eyes spark.

“Now I’m picturing you in riding leathers on a bike and I’m not sure I can handle all this today,” Shiro grins then he relaxes and lets Keith guide him down to bring their lips together in a soft, chaste kiss. He tries to savour it, to memorize every slide. Keith tastes like mint and coffee and Shiro wonders briefly what kind of sap it makes him that he’s already missing Keith and he hasn’t even left yet. He wishes there had been more than a few days for their honeymoon. He still wanted more time alone with Keith.

“I’ll see you tonight?” Keith frames it like a question and Shiro smiles at him. 

“Is it corny that I think I’m going to miss you?”

Keith looks amused at that.  “I guess absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Shiro laughs softly and he draws Keith in against him. Even with pockets of his utility belt riding against his hips, he’s such a good fit to him Shiro really doesn’t want to let him go. The tv chatters away behind them but he ignores it in favour of soaking up Keith’s warmth.

“Takashi,” Keith whispers after a long, sweet moment. The sound of it makes Shiro’s toes curl at the memory of the last time Keith said it. “I gotta go.”

“Yeah,” he lets his arms go slack so that Keith can step back and gives him a shaky laugh. He’s surprised at the sudden reluctance to let Keith slip away and some irrational insecurities rush to the forefront of his mind. It’s an effort to shove them aside.  He rubs his wedding ring absently.  “Have a good day.”

Keith takes a step back, then a few more to edge towards the door but then he pauses, tilts his head and then Keith is coming straight back to him.  This time when he throws his arms around Shiro’s neck, there’s nothing chaste about the kiss and Shiro’s gasping and half laughing when they pull apart.

“Better?” Keith grins at him.

“Much,” Shiro replies as he finally finds the strength to let Keith go. 

“Oh, and don’t listen to Black,” Keith calls out over his shoulder as he collects his backpack from the couch.  “He’s been fed. Anything else is a lie.”

“Noted. I’ll see you tonight, baby.”

The smile Keith gives him before he slips out the door is soft enough to fuel him for the rest of the morning.

 

* * *

 

Traffic is light at this early hour of the morning and it’s nothing but soft pinks and dewy grass outside the rig’s window.  Keith is caught up in his own thoughts as Lance drives, and he stares outside without taking too much of the scenery in. 

It’s been less than a fortnight since he wore his uniform, less than a fortnight since he sat in this rig beside Lance, listening to the crackle of the radio as other units shift and move through the city. They haven’t clocked on yet, none of the calls are for them but already he’s feeling the steady pool of anticipation forming in his stomach for when they do.

He feels like he’s going back to work as a changed man, and in the strangest of ways, he realises he is.

The yawning emptiness that sat so long behind his breast bone wasn’t so pronounced now. In fact, it almost wasn’t there at all.  Instead, something else filled the cavity in his chest. Something else he couldn’t quantify any further than just simply _Shiro._

His husband, his partner. A man he didn’t even know existed a mere month ago and now he couldn’t imagine his life without.  He brings up Shiro’s likeness in his mind, and they fluctuate from the day of the wedding, that first moment their eyes met as he walked up the aisle, to drifting in the wave, to the way his eyes shifted in the glow of the island sunsets.  To the way he smiled at Keith, like he was something worthwhile, something dear, right before he kisses him.

Keith isn’t aware he’s turning his wedding band around on his finger until Lance mutes the radio and glances over at him.

“You’ve changed.”

“What?” Keith has to blink to come back out of his thoughts.  “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, man. But this new married version of you. It’s nice. You’re… you’re happy.”

Keith snorts but there’s not much force behind it.  He tries to find some kind of bluster but Lance rolls his eyes. “Alright, fine. We’ll do it your way.”

“I’m dreading going into the base though,” Keith admits after a few moment and it’s hard to say out loud.  Lance slides him a curious look.

“Why?”

Keith shrugs, just a little jerk of his shoulders.  “All the questions. I hope no one else has seen that article.”

“Man, I told you. Forget that article.  Matt’s got Lotor onto it now. No one will be publishing anything without going through him now.  Good job getting him on side by the way.”

“I don’t think I had anything to do with. It was all Matt.”

“Matt and Lotor. Who would have guessed _that?”_

“I don’t know Matt well enough to judge,” Keith shrugs.  He doesn’t really know Lotor either, now that he thinks about it. The assumptions he’d made leading up to the wedding had been turned on their head easily enough.

“You know, Matt was the only one of us missing when we were at the firepit at the wedding.  Where the hell was Lotor during that time?”

“How the hell should I know?” Keith mutters. He knows Lance is trying to distract him. At least it helps keep his thoughts away from his husband for a little while. He’s going to have to learn to stop day dreaming if he’s going to be able to do his job.

 

* * *

 

The Emergency Operations Centre that is their main base is a huddle of operational headquarters for the city’s various branches of first responders where large scale operations are managed from.  There were smaller satellite bases spread throughout the city and teams often rotated where they were needed.  When not at their main base performing overflow duties to keep their land skills sharp and back up the local hospitals, Keith and Lance’s team were often stationed at the airport, ready to be wheels up and airborne off the coast in a matter of minutes. 

Today they were greeted by a flurry of motion. The complex was humming with activity, busier than Keith had ever remembered seeing for a long time and he exchanges a worried look with Lance as they trudge into their building and dump their gear at their lockers before heading to the main areas.

“Allura’s already here?” Keith asks as they have to dodge another team rushing down the hallway in the opposite direction.

“Yeah, she got called in last night. Or maybe this morning? I don’t know, it was a few hours ago though.  She didn’t mention this though.”

“I wonder what’s going on?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Looks like we’ve made it just in time though. Shit. Trigel looks pissed.”

“That can’t be good,” Keith mutters and they quickly duck into the small auditorium assigned to their unit and take their seats. It’s already filled with almost all of their teammates, including a couple of new faces towards the back that Keith doesn’t recognise.

Behind them, Rolo leans over to thump Keith in the arm lightly.

“Hey, Kogane. Congratulations on the wedding, dude. Maybe this will help you lighten up around the place, huh?”

“Screw you, Rolo,” Keith grins and flicks him an obscene gesture that has Rolo sniggering. At his side, his partner Nyma rolls her eyes but smiles at Keith kindly. 

“Never thought you would actually go through with it,” she says. Her pale blonde hair is pulled back into two distinctive ponytails high on her skull.  “I thought you were married to the job.”

“Ah, thank… thank you?”

He thinks it was a compliment. He can’t clarify because Allura comes in and Lance is poking him to shuffle down to make room for her.  She looks exhausted, the pale strands coming loose from her severe bun when she’s normally so immaculate.  She leans back against her seat with a sigh and Lance takes her hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. Her finger should shine with the sparkle of her engagement ring but Keith knows it’s on a chain around her neck instead.

“You okay, babe?” he hears Lance ask her and she nods. She tilts her face to him for a quick kiss and it makes an unfamiliar ache appear in Keith’s chest and he realises the pang is from missing Shiro and he’s already wishing his shift was over.

“Alright, team,” Trigel calls out as she strides into the room on long legs and kicks the door shut behind her. As soon as the room seals, the noise from the busy hallway disappears and a thick ominous air seems to settle. The fact that their team leader is usually a warm, personable woman and is now sighing heavily and rubbing her temple tiredly as she dumps her tablet on the podium that sits in the centre of the stage has them all a little on edge.

“Alright,” she says again as she lets her hand drop and turns to face them all.  Lance shares another concerned glance with Allura but Keith sets all his focus on Trigel.

“What’s going on, Tri?” Rolo pipes up.

In lieu of an immediate answer, Trigel flicks on the holographic display. The rest of the room immediately dims and Keith finds himself unconsciously leaning forward.

“These are the hotspots of activity supplied to us from law enforcement intel as of last week.  Nothing out of the ordinary, the usual places we expect activity and call outs to occur.”

Trigel reaches a long, slender hand out to swipe across the holographic map of the city. Areas that where are previous calming blue, now flashed angrily in reds and yellows, each flash denoting a call for assistance.

“What the hell?”

“Intel tells us that there’s been rumours circulating for weeks of a new substance about to hit the streets but up until now, it’s been just that, a rumour.”

“So, what’s all that?” Lance demands.  Like Keith, he’s studying the map and frowning heavily.

“Projected call outs, not just for us but all across the board. Not only this, forecasts are for more heatwaves so you can expect more callouts to our elderly folks. Hopefully most will be simple check ins but it’s safe to say we’re going to get real busy, real fast.” Trigel looks away from the map and finds Keith’s gaze in the audience.  “Keith, you picked a hell of a time to get married. I hope your new husband is the forgiving type.”

“Yeah,” Keith answers faintly, his eyes roving over the map. The huge spike in callouts meant their already overworked teams would be working harder than ever. He’s already seeing quiet evenings at home curled against Shiro slipping away and his stomach drops a little bit until he realises how selfish that thought was. 

Shiro will understand.  _Won’t he?_

“Why now? Why like this?”  Allura asks.

“It seems that Zarkon is losing control of his patch and that’s causing a real shit fight in the streets.”

“Zarkon?” Lance leans over to mutter. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“Don’t you watch the news? He’s only the city’s biggest crime lord,” Rolo supplies over Lance’s shoulder.

“Alleged,” Allura cuts in, her tone bitter.

“So, what’s with all that outside?” Keith asks, jerking a thumb towards the hall.  He’s frowning now, not comprehending why this unconfirmed intel had everyone on so edge. “There’s something else going on, isn’t there.”

Trigel sides him a short look before turning her back on him and striding back over to the holographic interface.  “That’s on a need to know basis.”

“Uh,” Lance holds up his hand.  “Don’t we need to know?”

There’s a murmur of agreement through the room and Trigel looks pained and faintly apologetic.

“ _I_ don’t even know,” Trigel says then. “I’m only getting what law enforcement intel is giving me, and that’s not much. Just… Be careful. All of you.  You’re all on overflow to back the city hospital teams for the next 48 hours.”

Trigel answers a few questions then rounds off the meeting. The rest of the group files out but before Keith and Lance can move, Trigel is calling their names.  

“Lance, Keith, can I see you both privately for a moment?”

She motions to them to follow her down the hall.

“Whatever it was, Keith did it,” Lance announces as they trail behind Trigel to her office.  Why they couldn’t talk in the meeting room Keith didn’t understand.  He sticks a foot out abruptly and sends Lance stumbling.

“What?” he says innocently as Lance turns to glare at him.  “Say whatever you want, at least I can walk in a straight line.”

“Mullet,” Lance mutters and Keith flips him off behind Trigel’s back.  By the time they reach her doorway, she’s releasing a long-suffering sigh.

“I swear if you two weren’t my best team, I would seriously wonder about the maturity levels here. Sit down, and no, you’re not in trouble, Lance.”

“Feels like we’re in the principal’s office,” Lance mutters and he flops onto the well used couch lining one wall. On the other side, Trigel’s station glows with more screens and holographic images showing real time movements of various teams. It’s a scaled down version of the main hub, just enough for her to manage their small unit.  Keith was sure that Trigel had spent many a long night snatching a few moments of sleep on that couch.

Sprawled out, Lance sighs dramatically as though he was just arriving at the end of a shift and not starting one. Keith and Trigel ignore him.

“What’s going on?” Keith asks as Trigel pauses beside her desk.  She flips through the tablet in her hand briefly before she answers.

“The galaxy garrison are hosting their usual open day this weekend, they’re trying to curry back favour with the general public after the recent shit storms that the anti-astro groups have been stirring up. And apparently, they’re trying to butter us up as well because they want us and the other emergency services to participate as well.”

“Do we have the resources to pander to that?” Keith frowns.

“We’ll manage. To be honest, a little bit of positive reinforcement when it comes to the general public will only help us. Stars know we need the funding.”

“Did you know it costs almost three million credits every time there’s a launch?” Lance says idly from his position on the couch. He’s spread himself out now, his boots up on the armrest and one arm thrown over his eyes as though he’s about to take a nap.  “That’s just a single launch and they do hundreds of them. Imagine how much overtime and extra crews we’d get with _that_.” 

Trigel narrows her eyes at him and stalks over to slap his feet off the armrest. “Hey!” he protests.

“Get up, McClain, before I stick you back on shift with Rolo for a week again.”

“Fuck, no, don’t do that.”

“Then get up,” she pokes him when he doesn’t move fast enough.

“Ow, okay okay. Geez, boss.”

“So, what’s this got to do with us then?” Keith asks. He ignores Lance’s outstretched hand begging him for assistance to help him up off the couch, pointedly crossing his arms instead. Lance gives him a dirty look as he gets to his feet on his own.

“Well,” Trigel turns to him with one finely arched eyebrow. “You have a personal connection to the garrison now, I thought you might like to field this.”

Keith’s eyebrows shoot up in spite of himself.  The open day wouldn’t be too strenuous, it would really be a matter of manning a booth for most of the day and playing nice with the general public, maybe attend to a few scraped knees or a touch of sunstroke here and there. In fact, it’s probably liable to be boring as hell.

But… it was also a garrison event, which meant Shiro would likely be a part of it.

He ticks his mind back, trying to remember if Shiro had said anything about the open day. He usually had his weekends free and if Keith was going to work this then maybe they would be able to swing some rostered time off at the same time.  He was already thinking ahead about what they could do.

“Sure,” he shrugs.  “We’ll do it.”

Lance clears his throat loudly.  Trigel and Keith turn to him with raised brows. “What?”

“Isn’t anyone going to ask _me_ if _I_ want to do the open day? I mean, Keith is my partner but still, that’s clear favouritism right there, Trigel-“

“Lance, if I hear one more word out of your mouth that isn’t an equipment check in the nearest rig, I’m going to assign you and Allura to opposite shifts for a month!”

Lance snaps his lips shut and Trigel stares him down for a moment longer before folding her arms across her chest.  “By the way, you’re both grounded this week.”

“What?” Keith demands. Lance throws up his hands but wisely doesn’t speak. “Why?”

“How long has it been since you’ve both done solid land rotations? You should be thanking me, Keith. This will let you spend more time with your new husband-“

“Didn’t you just say in the meeting that we’re expected to be inundated soon?”

Trigel looks shifty enough that Keith is starting to realise something else is going on. Something other than the local crime lords trying to jostle for power over the city’s streets.

“It’s been requested that you’re kept available,” Trigel mutters. Keith frowns as he waits for her to continue. “Komar HQ,” she clarifies.  “They want you around and available for the next few weeks so I’ve been instructed to make your shifts a little easier.”

“What the hell. Do you mean Honerva? Honerva’s been calling you?”

“Keith, reign it in,” Trigel warns. Keith tries tamper down on the flare of temper. “It makes sense. You just embarked on a life long commitment with someone you don’t really know and from what I understand, they want to be able to support you both. Something about regular counselling sessions?”

“Yeah, but-“

“But what? It won’t hurt you to keep your boots on the ground for a while, and Lance has been badgering me for more land-based work all week so don’t tell me you’re going to complain about it too.”  Trigel looks pointedly at Lance but he keeps his mouth shut.

“Okay, fine,” Keith mutters.  He’s not sure how to feel about this then tells himself it doesn’t matter, they’ll go where they’re needed like they always do.  He’s about to follow Lance out the door when Trigel touches his arm.

“Keith, I didn’t say it before and I should have. Congratulations. If it helps, my marriage was arranged, we were strangers when we got married too, although we met a few times during the engagement. It’s not easy, but there’s no reason why you can’t make it work.”

Trigel smiles as he blinks in surprise, a little too startled by her revelation to answer more than a softly exhaled _oh._ She grins at him then, seemingly pleased she caught him off guard. “If you need any advice, my door is always open.”

She steps back and points down the hall.  “Now get to work.“

 

* * *

 

Art of Keith and Lance by the wonderful [Boo](http://boosify.tumblr.com/post/173346123517)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (pretty sure he was singing the elton john classic "Bennie and the Jets" and really getting into those high notes lol)


	40. when you come home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is such self-indulgent titwaffle and I don’t even care. Also, I talked to some real life paramedics recently who gave me amazing insight to their jobs but of course, dramatized in this fic for… well, drama.
> 
> oh. Also, trigger warning for death mention
> 
> Moodboard [ HERE ](https://sheithmafsau.tumblr.com/post/173852856736/ch40-moodboard-i-havent-done-of-these-for-a-while) if that's your jam

There’s a long open stretch of road that leads into the galaxy garrison’s compound on the outskirts of the city.  A long stretch of open road that isn’t monitored by the local law enforcement on account of it being garrison property meant Shiro has the opportunity to open the throttle and let his car lean close to the speeds it had been designed for.

And this morning, still buzzing from the high of his workout and the memory of Keith’s kiss, he does.

The foliage on either side turns into a blur as he drives and the more the digital read out dials up on the dash, the more the idea lurking at the back of this thoughts starts to solidify. By the time the car sighs down its gears and pulls up to the first of many checkpoints, a plan has formed in his mind and for the first time in years, there’s a new-found determination to see his decision through.

He gets a wave from some of the cadets when he finally marches into the building housing the state of the art simulators, grateful when the wall of air conditioning greets him.  The heat outside was already oppressive, and he’s trying not to think too hard about the storms it’s likely to bring.

“Welcome back, LT!”

The greeting comes from one of the younger cadets, still fresh faced and exuberant enough not to be crushed under the garrison’s relentless training. She’s smiling brightly with a twist of deep green hair that he’s pretty sure isn’t going to be garrison approved. He smiles back at her but it’s restrained and professional and perhaps even a little bit wary.

 _Here we go_ , he thinks.

“You’re not supposed to call me that, Jenny,” he responds mildly. He tries not to put too much disapproval into his tone, it’s not like he was particularly strict about it but the higher ups didn’t approve and he didn’t want to cause any more confusion than he needed to.

Jenny pauses for a second then quickly falls into step beside him.  Her sharp gaze zeroes in on one of his hands. His human one. 

“So, it’s true? You really did get married?”

It takes Shiro a beat to formulate a response and he tries to buy a moment of time by adjusting the access band around his wrist as they approach the door that leads into the hallway that houses the classrooms and his small office.

It might have been too much to hope that the article released on the weekend would stay obscure enough not to reach the garrison.

“Where did you hear that?” he asks, striving for a casualness he doesn’t actually feel on the inside. He swipes his wrist over the door panel and it slides open on a quiet hiss.  Jenny follows him through.

“Well, I overheard some of the other officers last week when you were away and now you’re wearing a wedding ring.  Kind of obvious, LT.”

He flashes her an exasperated look at the abbreviation but it doesn’t hold a lot of heat. He’s too relieved at the lack of mention of the article. Maybe he was safe on that front.  He could live with the in-house garrison gossip, he was used to that.

“Were you lurking in at the officer’s lounge again?”

“No!” she protests, maybe a little too hard for Shiro not to be suspicious at.  “Um. Maybe. The coffee machine there makes the best hot chocolates!”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t tell me that, that way when an _real_ officer asks me what you’ve been up to I can deny all knowledge.”

Jenny giggles. “You’re a real officer to us. So, um, they said it was a really short engagement?”

Shiro has to laugh to himself on the inside at Jenny’s hesitant question. Short engagement. Like zero point three seconds short. The memory of Keith dressed in that lovely burgundy suit, looking up at him from under his hair and whispering _wow_ at the altar makes his lips twitch.

Best thing he ever did.

She grins at him when she notices him trying not to smile and then she’s staring, obviously expecting more. 

“What?” he laughs, moving past her and down the hall. He doesn’t have to look behind to know she’s following him like a puppy. 

“LT,” she whines and it occurs to him she sounds an awful lot like Lance. He hopes they’re not related.  “You gotta spill. What’s she like? Is she pretty? Where did you meet? I bet the wedding was so beautiful-“

“Jenny, I’m going to stop you right there,” he shakes his head. Jenny’s young, obviously caught up in the romance of it all.  If she’s picturing a white dress and a dozen bridesmaids, she’s going to be disappointed. “First off, yes, the wedding was beautiful and yes, he’s pretty. Pretty amazing.”

It almost surprises him how easy that was to say.

Jenny’s eyebrows shoot up but then she gives him a sly smile. “Pics, or it didn’t happen.”

Shiro barks out a laugh at that. “Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll make an announcement at the beginning of our session. No photos though.”

“Aw,” she pouts.

 

* * *

 

Keith is about to climb into one of the standard rigs when Lance waves him over to one of the specialized EMS tactical units instead.  His eyebrows slide up at the heavy black machine and then at Lance hanging off the side of it with an idiotic grin on his face.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re just on overflow today, right? So, we shouldn’t take a standard rig or there won’t be enough for the usual crews. So… why don’t we take this baby out?”

“Lance, if we show up to a call out in that thing we’re going to be causing more heart attacks than we’ll help.”

“But think how _cool_ we’ll look,” Lance jumps down, landing lightly on his feet.  Keith gives him a droll look and he sighs. “Fine, guess we’ll take the old girl.”

“Did you do the equipment check already?”

“Yup, but I know you’re just going to go and check everything yourself anyway” Lance says cheerily.

He heads over to their rig and Keith trails after him. Lance pulls the door open and climbs into the driver’s seat as Keith slips into the back, already pulling out a tablet to check over the stores they have on board while Lance boots up the comm and dials them into the system. He’s busy frowning over the counts on some of the pharmaceuticals they have on board when there’s a light rap against the open door at the back of the rig.

Keith tries not to let the mild irritation show on his face when he loses the flow of his count.

“Hello, Keith. I hear that congratulations are in order.”

It takes him a second to place that voice, the modulation of the words just slightly off enough that he has to listen carefully through the accent. It was a nice voice, and the man it belongs to gives him a tentative smile as he leans against the door frame.

That smile stirs up a flash of a memory he hadn’t thought about in a long time. It had been dark in that corner of the hall, lending perfectly to his intention to sneak away at the first opportunity the speeches singing the praises of the city’s first responders turned boring. Then suddenly he hadn’t been alone and he’d felt a shiver roll down his spine as the alcohol burned in his veins and a head bent low to murmur against his ear. He couldn’t place the voice’s accent then decided he didn’t care because the man’s hand was suddenly heavy on his hip.

There had been a brief conversation Keith couldn’t remember and the man had eventually leaned close enough to kiss him, but Keith hadn’t been brave enough to follow through.

“Sven. Uh. Yeah. Thanks,” he finally manages to say lamely, shaking off the memory.

Sven gives him another smile, this one was softer, almost sad. 

“I did not know you were… ah-“ Sven pauses, as though searching his mind for a word. “Dating,” he says, and his smile turns rueful. It makes something in Keith’s gut twist.

Before Keith can answer, Lance sticks his head through the partition leading into the cabin.  “Hey, Sven,” he says, eyebrows lifting in surprise at their visitor. His gaze slides almost imperceptively to Keith then back again, just a hint of speculation there that Keith knows Lance is going to pick at like a loose thread later.

“Hello, Lance,” Sven nods, the deep timbre of his voice formal and distinctly different to his greeting to Keith.

“If you’re ready Keith, we’re good to roll.” Lance gestures to one of the digital screens hovering above the rigs outside.  Their units icon, MK-5 glows green as they wait for an assignment. Keith nods and Lance disappears back into the driver’s seat and leaves Keith holding the tablet and staring at Sven awkwardly. 

“He must be a very impressive man to have captured _your_ attention,” Sven adds.  Keith thinks about Shiro and he can’t quite hold back the smile.

“Yeah, he… he is.”

“I am happy for you. I wish you a very happy future.”

Sven smiles again and steps back, offering another gentle tap on the back of the rig before turning away. It feels like a farewell and an odd sensation that feels a little too close to regret tries to curl against his chest but he shoves it aside before it has a chance to bloom. He refuses to let himself revisit that memory too deeply. He doesn’t let himself think about how different his life now be if maybe he’d just tilted his face up slightly in the dark that night and let Sven kiss him.

He slides the door shut and secures it with strangely trembling hands, blocking Sven from view.  He slips into the front seat, clutching the tablet in his hands hard and fighting against indulging the sudden urge to pick up the phone and call Shiro just to reassure himself with the sound of his husband’s voice. The band on his finger tingles and he tries to drag his mind back to the present by tuning into the job displays in the rig.

“That’s it!” Lance exclaims suddenly, slapping the steering wheel hard enough Keith almost jumps.  “It’s been bugging me all week but I finally figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” Keith asks, half distracted already by the screens on the dash. He watches the movements of the other teams as they crawl throughout the city. The numbers tick down and he expects their comm to crackle at any moment.  Lance does too, already putting the rig into drive in anticipation of a job.

“Sven! Don’t you think he looks a lot like Shiro?” 

“Uh-“

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance cuts him off in his excitement.  “But like, different coloured eyes and with different hair and without the-” Lance trails off, fingers waving over his face, presumably to indicate Shiro’s scar. 

Keith has to clench his jaw shut. Lance doesn’t mean anything by it but the way he slides Keith a nervous sideways glance, Keith knows Lance is wary of his reaction.  He tries not to bite and sighs inwardly a little instead. There’s a small twinge in the centre of his chest at the thought of Shiro and he rubs it absently. Shit, is this what it was always going to be like? The constant ache when Shiro wasn’t with him. That might get old fast.

“Yeah, maybe,” he finally shrugs.

“You know he’s been sweet on you for a while, right? Why didn’t you ever go for that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sven,” Lance clarifies with a small frown in Keith’s direction.  “He asked you to the first responder fundraising gala last year, remember?”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t-“

“A date? Don’t you dare say it wasn’t a date, Keith.”

“It wasn’t!”

“Oh my god. Are you for real? So, a really nice guy asks you if you want to go with him to the fundraising gala and wear a tux and shit and you didn’t think it was a date? Keith…”

“It wasn’t a date, it was because he was new in town and didn’t know many of us and pretty much everyone else was working and- shit.”

“Wow. Okay. It’s a good thing you and Shiro are already married because you really suck at reading the signs. You’re probably going to end up married to Shiro for twenty years and still wondering if he likes you-“

“Shut up!”

Lance’s laughter is cut off just as their comms spark to life.

_Go time._

“Unit MK-5, job assignment incoming. Stand by.”

Keith swipes his hand over the display. The details of the call out spiral through and he slides the location over to Lance’s navigation as he starts to drive. “Copy HQ. Show us proceeding.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro’s small space he generously terms as an office doesn’t look all that different from the last time he saw it, except for the uncomfortable fact that Commander Iverson is already there waiting for him. He resists the urge to check the time, knowing without a doubt that he’s not late.

“Iverson,” he says curtly, pausing by his desk to see what the older officer wants. 

“Shiro, it’s good to have you back.”

Shiro fights a frown at that. “I was only gone for ten days, Iverson.”

Hardly any time at all compared to the other garrison officers and their months long stretches in space.

Iverson shoots him a look Shiro can’t quite read. He’s not sure exactly what it is, but this senior officer always leaves him feeling unsettled. Like he needs to dot all his I’s and cross all his T’s and leave no room for error. He’s always fighting the vague feeling that the brass is just seconds away from wanting to crash down around his shoulders.

It makes the decision he made on the drive over waver.

“I trust it all went…. Well.”

Iverson’s attempt at being friendly almost makes Shiro laugh.  _Too little, too late, old man._

“Yes. I’m very happy.”

The usual response would be something warm, at least that was what Shiro had been expecting if he followed the pattern of the last week or so but Iverson doesn’t give an inch.  If anything, his frown seems to deepen, as though unhappy with the state of Shiro’s personal life.  Shiro tries to ignore it.

“It’s good timing that you’re here though,” Shiro continues conversationally. He’s not an officer anymore and he knows his casualness grates on Iverson. It’s petty but it’s gives him a sense of control over a situation where he really doesn’t have much at all.

He goes to his desk and reaches over to boot up his terminal but he doesn’t sign in just yet.  Iverson clasps his hands behind his back in his usual stance, his interest in what Shiro has to say piqued.

“And why is that?”

Shiro keeps his eyes on the terminal screen.  The galaxy garrison symbol turns on a slow 3d projection as the terminal waits for his input and he focuses on it’s rotations to find his calm. Once he put his decision out there, to Iverson no less, it wouldn’t go away.  He would be subjected to more evaluations, more closer scrutiny when they’ve only just started to ease off. He hopes he’s ready for it.

He takes a breath to steel himself.

“I want to fly again.”

 

* * *

 

Keith had almost forgotten the extremes of the land-based shifts. One call out could be for something as simple as a check on some elderly residents suffering in the city’s heatwave, the next could be trying to bring someone back from the edge of an overdose.

Their first call out falls on the low end of the scale, an older resident of the apartment complex meets them at the door, eyes stained red and clutching a crumpled tissue to her face.  She moves slowly, as though the weight of world is holding her down, the passage of time steadily trying to grind her into dust.

Lance immediately takes the lead, unflinching when the older woman tugs on the sleeve of his uniform and points a shaky hand towards the hall. Keith’s heart sinks when he spies a pair of slippered feet limp on the floor, sticking halfway out of the bedroom.  There’s an unwelcome but familiar scent in the air as well and the smell of death that tells them almost everything they need to know. He meets Lance’s eyes and there’s a silent exchange of communication that has Lance leading the woman towards the couch in the living space as Keith slips into the hallway.

He knows he doesn’t need to rush but he does anyway, still holding onto the tiniest slither of irrational hope that maybe there’s still something he can do.  There’s not, and he calls it into comms with the radio on his shoulder, following through on the official routines and being advised that the relevant authorities will arrive soon to assist with the body. In the other room, he can hear Lance talking quietly, explaining gently the next steps.

He comes back into the living space and the old woman clutches Lance’s arm. Lance explains to her softly the next steps and she lets him go long enough so that together the boys can lift the body onto the mattress and Keith goes to get a chair to place beside the bed.

“Mrs Taujeer, would you like to sit with him for a bit?” Lance asks her gently. “Before they come to collect him?”

“Yes,” she answers and she pulls herself upright but she needs help to move forward and she latches onto Keith’s arm. He helps her down the hallway as a knock on the door sounds and Lance goes to greet the coroner’s team.  He averts his eyes from the pale body lying prone on the bed as he helps her into the chair.

Keith feels slightly awkward in these situations, this was where Lance’s strengths came into their own. Keith was good with the science, with being able to assess and decide on a course of action quickly, with knowing when to push and when to draw back. Lance was the one who knew what to say, who could coax out of a patient the information they needed or to calm them when they started to lose control.

This… this silent grief in a room filled with memories of a lifetime together, was beyond him.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he says quietly.

She gives him a watery smile and pats his hand. He doesn’t understand how she can smile at a time like this but the shock of her grief seems to give way to something softer now. Something resigned.

“We knew he didn’t have much time left,” she says after a moment. He had initially thought it was her age that made her voice tremble, but there’s something more solid about it now. Even the tears have stopped, replaced with a deep sadness. “We were married for fifty-four years, but… but it still doesn’t feel like it was enough.”

Keith doesn’t quite know what to say to that so he stays quiet. On the bedside table, a framed wedding photo sits, the old print pale and yellowing with age. He studies it without really thinking and keeps one ear out for Lance.

The comm unit crackles at his shoulder.  There’s no urgency though, they’ll stay until they’re no longer needed but when she grasps his hand and turns her papery face up towards him, he’s startled by the intensity in her gaze. 

“It goes so quickly,” she says. She points at his wedding ring.  “And you can never get it back.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro’s staring at the black gloss of his phone in the middle of his lunch break, a bowl of the garrison’s famed macaroni and cheese on the table in front of him. It doesn’t taste like how he remembers, it’s slightly ashy and he wonders if just a week and a bit away from the garrison had even changed his taste buds or maybe now he just has better things to look forward to.

Matt doesn’t seem to have any qualms about the taste as he wolfs down his own portion though.

“What’s gotten into you, buddy? You never knock back the mac and cheese.”

“I’m not sure,” Shiro admits honestly. “It’s just not doing it for me today.”

“Maybe you’re lovesick. _I’m_ lovesick.”

Shiro eyes the way Matt practically licks his bowl clean and tries not to laugh too loud.

“Yeah, you look it. Positively listless and devoid of life,” he says dryly and Matt waves a spoon at him hard enough that a left-over glob of cheese goes flying over Shiro’s shoulder.  He hears a faint “hey!” from behind him and Matt quickly shifts position, hunkering down in his seat. 

“Hide me,” he hisses and Shiro sighs and drums his metallic fingers against the surface of the table.

His phone remains stubbornly silent.

Taunting him.

“I really hope where ever Lotor is, he’s sitting there doing exactly what you’re doing right now,” Matt says morosely.  That has Shiro raising his eyebrows.

“Come again?”

Matt fiddles with his bowl before pushing it to the side and propping his face up on his hand.  He leans into it so hard that half his face mushes and he looks about ten years younger than he actually is.

“Lotor. He hasn’t called or texted or…” Matt shrugs.

“Are you guys… are you guys a thing now?”

Shiro reaches for his water bottle as Matt tries to formulate an answer.  He decides to take pity on him. “Or is it just one of those unquantifiable things undefined by science and the universe?”

Matt shoots him an appalled look. “Shiro… no.”

“What?” Shiro laughs.

“Just call him if you want to talk to him, Shiro,” Matt says miserably.  “At least you skipped this part. You guys are already married. It’s not like you’re going to be rejected.”

Shiro considers that then eyes his phone again. “He’s probably busy.”

“Then leave a message and let him know you were thinking about him. You do know how to leave a message, right?” Matt’s face turns dark and he starts to mutter.  _“Unlike some people-“_

Shiro can’t really find an argument to that. He’s surprised at himself how badly he wants to hear Keith’s voice. Not just to check in, but also to share the recent developments with him. He won’t yet though, he’ll save it for when they get home and face to face but… he’s curious to see if Keith is thinking about him as much as he is then he tries to tell himself it doesn’t matter. Their jobs keep them both busy, time with something different to focus on other than each other is healthy, right?

He picks up his phone then dials before he can talk himself out of it. It rings a few times and he’s about to hang up when the call finally connects and there’s a scuffle and a breathless “Hey,” from the other end of the line.

“Hi,” he answers, smiling into the call.  He almost said _baby_ , but Matt is watching him a little too shrewdly for him to be comfortable.  “I’m not interrupting, am I? You sound kind of breathless.”

“No, sorry I left my phone in the rig so I had to run for it. We’re just finishing up.”

He hears the doors slam on what he assumes to be the rig and an engine starts. Lance’s voice is in the background but Shiro can’t make out what he’s saying.  He can hear Keith clearly enough though.

“Oh, uh. Lance says hi.”

Shiro chuckles. “Hi Lance.”

There’s more scuffling on the phone and some muted yelling, presumably from Keith. “No, no! Will you just drive? I’ll… no. Yeah. Okay, whatever-“ Keith exhales loudly then his voice is clear on the line again.  “Ugh, sorry. Um. So...”

“How’s your shift going?” Shiro asks, and now he feels slightly awkward for calling without a real reason to other than to hear his husband’s voice. They spoke a few hours ago. He’s going to come off like some obsessed stalker at this rate. Matt’s reminder crosses his thoughts, _at least you can’t be rejected_ , and somehow that emboldens him. He stands up, pushing the chair back and he wanders out into the gardens that line the eating hall. It’s still hot enough that most staff and students have stayed indoors but a few moments of relative privacy prove to be well worth the sticky heat.

“It’s okay,” Keith answers. “We’re on land rotation for a while. We’re just grabbing a bite to eat then Lance wants to head down to the waterfront to decompress before we’re back on.”

“Rough shift?”

“No, not really. Kind of sad. I’ll tell you about it tonight.”

“When do you finish?”

“Providing there’s no emergencies we’ll be off in a few hours. Hey, so I was planning to bring my bike over tonight. You sure you’re still okay with that?”

“Yeah, of course. There’s plenty of room for it. Let me know when you’re close and I’ll open the door up for you. You haven’t got remote access to the garage yet.”

“Okay, thanks.”

There’s a pause and it seems a little like Keith might want to say something else. Shiro takes a deep breath. He doesn’t really want to hang up just yet.  “Guess I should let you go then?”

“Yeah,” and there’s something about the reluctance in Keith’s tone that warms him deep in his heart.  Like Keith wants to hold on just a few more moments the same as he does.  Shiro glances around, making sure there’s no one too close that could overhear but he’s alone outside. A bead of sweat forms at his temple and he remembers why.

“I can’t wait to kiss you again,” he says huskily into the phone. He knows Keith won’t respond in kind with Lance beside him but he wants to leave him with the thought anyway. He’s rewarded by a sharp inhale on the other end of the line.

“And you think I play dirty,” Keith grumbles back at him quietly but it coasts on a whisper of laughter.  Shiro grins to himself.

“Have a good day, _baby.”_

He hangs up before Keith can gripe at him again.

 

* * *

 

The rest of their shift ends up strangely quiet. Quiet enough that they’re called back to base and they find themselves in one of the rec rooms with a good chunk of their unit.

“Man, whoever did the forecasting today really fucked up,” Rolo comments from his seat at the table. A half-eaten sandwich sits in front of him and he’s scrolling through a feed on the tablet propped up in front of him. “There’s like, nothing happening but almost everyone’s rostered on.”

“And now when the shit does hit the fan, no-one is going to be around to field it,” Nyma answers.  She yawns delicately, one hand in front of her mouth and blinking tiredly. Keith wonders what time they started their shift but doesn’t get the chance to ask before Trigel storms in and slumps into the chair at the head of the table.  She looks frustrated and tired and there’s a shade of pale on her normally olive complexion that has the entire team exchanging concerned glances.

“Pull up a chair, team,” she says, gesturing at the table. 

Once they’re all settled, she sighs. “Well, today has been a right royal waste of resources and I have a bad feeling that it’s only scratching the surface. I don’t care what the other units are doing but I want to conserve our efforts until we know more from intel and the fact the city is no doubt going to be hit with the mother of all storms in a few days, we need to stay sharp.”

“Thank god the rigs have air conditioning,” Rolo mutters. “It’s disgusting outside,” he wraps up his half-eaten sandwich and leans back to lob it into the nearest rubbish bin only to miss and it splatters to the floor.

“Seriously?” Lance demands and Rolo has the grace to look sheepish.

“Sorry,” he mutters as he slinks away from the table to clean it up.

“So, what’s the plan then?” Keith asks, drawing their attention back to their team leader and away from Rolo.  Trigel looks like she needs to go inside herself to find an idiom of calm before she continues.

Lance fidgets beside him.

“You can all go home, provided I have at least two teams on-call tonight, a primary and a secondary in case things _really_ get ugly.”

Without really thinking, Keith’s hand starts to rise.  Trigel doesn’t even look up from her tablet as she points a finger at him.

“Keith, I’m going to assume that was some kind of muscle spasm and not that you’re actually putting your hand up to be on call the week after you’ve just gotten married.”

“Uh-“ Keith blinks and lowers his hand back to the table slowly.

He’s dimly aware of Lance rolling his eyes and leaning over to stage whisper “He’s so bad at this,” at Nyma.  She giggles but turns to face Keith just as he narrows his eyes and uncharitably wonders if he can blackmail Lance with the threat of dobbing his vague flirting with Nyma into Allura until he remembers Allura is too self-assured in her position as the love of Lance’s life to care.

“Lance showed us the wedding photos,” Nyma shares. “Your husband is _hot-“_

Keith’s cheeks heat and for some reason his eyes flash to Sven sitting quietly at the other end of the table. He’s looking directly at Keith with an expression Keith can’t read and Lance’s comment from earlier resurfaces in his mind.

There was a slight resemblance, maybe. If he squinted.

He pulls his gaze back to Nyma, fluttering a hand against her cheeks as though she’s trying to cool herself. Rolo makes a comment about Shiro’s arm, wondering out loud if he’s got a chance of getting a prosthetic as high tech as Shiro’s to better help him when he surfs. 

Keith doesn’t bother to go into the effects of the seawater on Shiro’s tech last week. His eyes flick to the digital readout on the wall, taking note of the time and realising by the time he collects his bike from out of Lance’s garage and heads back to Shiro’s place, they would be getting home around the same time and suddenly it’s all he wants to do.

“Go home to your new husband, Keith,” Trigel says quietly enough that only he can hear. Keith is grateful for that. “The world will still keep on turning and call outs will still get serviced even if you’re not here.”

The echo of a voice slides through his mind.  _You never get that time back._

“Yeah,” he agrees without argument. “Okay.”

Lance pats his shoulder with no small amount of pride and Keith realises he heard everything. “There you go. You’re learning.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro’s waiting in the driveway when Keith pulls up. It makes something heat inside him when he sees the glossy red bike on black tread pull in with the lithe rider on the back.  Keith flips open his helmet and grins at him as he downshifts, giving an extra little growl of the engine just to impress Shiro.

It works, because the sound of it goes straight to Shiro’s gut, or maybe it’s just the way Keith is straddling the bike with such an easy grace.

“Is this the flaming death trap Lance was talking about?”

Keith laughs as he rides the bike into position beside Shiro’s hulking beast of a car. It looks tiny but no less lethal beside it, it’s shiny red panels an interesting contrast to the deep matte of the black. Shiro watches with a dry mouth as Keith cocks the stand and lifts off the bike, unstrapping his gloves and shucking off his backpack before he yanks off his helmet. His hair is mushed slightly and he’s got a faintly wild look in his eyes, no doubt a touch of left over adrenaline from his ride.

_God, he’s hot._

“I hope your neighbours aren’t going to start hating you,” Keith comments. He places his helmet on the bike’s seat and starts on unzipping his jacket. Shiro realises then he’s not wearing his uniform any longer and guesses he must have changed before he left his station.

“Me? They’re _your_ neighbours now too,” Shiro says and then he grins.

“I like how that sounds,” Keith says quietly, now just in a soft black cotton t-shirt and his jacket in his hands. The street lights spill their yellow glow into the garage and the echo of cars driving by mingle with the sounds of the neighbourhood.  Anyone walking by would be able to see the hungry way they’re looking at each other so Shiro waves a hand and the automated garage door starts to lower, cutting off the rest of the world until it’s just the two of them standing between his car and Keith’s bike.

“I missed you,” Shiro says honestly when they’re finally sealed in. He can’t explain the way his heart seems to settle just laying his eyes on his husband again. He wants to sigh when Keith steps forward and pushes up with one hand on Shiro’s shoulder to press a kiss against his lips. And just like that, he’s found the peace of him.

“Me too,” Keith says when he steps back. Shiro takes his hand and tugs him up the stairs to the air-conditioned comfort of the townhouse’s living space, trotting into the kitchen where he has an array of half chopped vegetables spread out on the counter. Keith’s eyebrows jump up in surprise.  “What’s this?”

“Dinner,” Shiro says.  Then he points Keith at one of the stools. “Sit,” he commands and for a brief second, Keith looks like he’s about to argue. Shiro almost wishes he would but he eventually shrugs and takes a seat at the counter as Shiro starts to chop again.

“So,” he starts as he slices into the red capsicum, then pushes it to the side to start on something else. Keith snags a slice and crunches on it as they talk. “How was your first shift back as a married man?”

Keith pulls a face at the faintly mocking way Shiro says it but then he lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “It was okay. Everyone was pretty cool about it. I kept waiting for someone to bring up that stupid article though.”

“Yeah,” Shiro agrees. “Me too.”

“Anyone mention it to you?”

“Nope.”

Shiro continues to chop and Keith hops up, going to the fridge to pull out a drink and rummage around in the freezer for the ice cubes. It makes Shiro smile when he grabs two glasses and places one within Shiro’s reach.  It was so fucking domestic but he was loving every second of this.  How many times had he been here in this kitchen alone doing this exact same thing with only Black and the tv chattering away in the background for company?

“And what about you?” Keith asks. He brushes a hand over Shiro’s arm absently as he takes his drink and slides back onto his stool.  “Everything go okay?”

It takes Shiro a moment to answer. The excitement over his news wants to spill out of his chest so he takes a sip from his glass in an effort to stall long enough to calm himself.  He can’t wait to share this with Keith. He hopes that Keith with will be proud of him… and he hopes Keith realises how instrumental he’s been to getting Shiro where he is.

“I lodged a flight plan today,” he says casually, waiting to see how long until the implication twigs for Keith. He shouldn’t have bothered because Keith is sharp. Sharp enough that there’s only the briefest flicker of confusion in his eyes before they go wide and he sits straight up.

“You’re going to fly again?”

The excitement in Keith’s voice echoes Shiro’s. It was the reaction he was hoping for. Maybe even a little more when Keith woops and punches the air. “That’s awesome! When?”

Shiro flushes a little. “Soon, I mean I still have to go through all the psych testing and despite being an instructor I still have to requalify but… yeah, it’s a step in the right direction.”

“You’ll do great,” Keith says with complete assurance and it almost feels a little odd to have someone look at him with such utter confidence and faith after so long. He’d forgotten how damn good it could feel. He’d been one of the garrison’s golden boys once, maybe there was still time to be something similar again.

They talk a little more as Shiro moves to the stove to cook their meal. He was going for a simple stir-fry but he keeps getting distracted by the way Keith just looks so good sitting there at the kitchen counter. It doesn’t help when Keith starts flipping the blade Shiro had used to slice up the vegetables over his knuckles, the same way he had before they cut the cake at their wedding and for a brief instant, Shiro feels like he’s having an out of body experience because this simple quiet moment feels like so huge and encompassing all at once and he has to blink to tune himself back into what Keith is saying.

“I met a woman that had been married to her husband for fifty-four years. Fifty-four years… can you imagine that? I wonder what we’ll be like in fifty-four years.”

The casualness of the way Keith says it manages to steal the breath from his throat and it takes him a long moment to recover.  Too long, because then he’s yanking the frypan off the stove, frowning at the burning garlic and the stupid over sensitive smoke alarm starts to beep. 

“Damnit,” he mutters.  “I’m not sure, but I hope at least one of us learns how to cook or we both might die of malnutrition before our first wedding anniversary.”

Keith laughs silently as he reaches out to slap the panel on the wall to disable the alarm. Shiro tries not to feel embarrassed and fails.

“That won’t happen. We have a Hunk. And takeout.”

Shiro laughs in spite of himself then dumps the frypan into the sink. When he turns around, Keith already has the local Thai restaurants take away menu in his hand.  He waves it like a flag and grins. “Forget cooking. Let’s dial in and celebrate your news. What do you feel like?”

Shiro resists the urge to make a lewd joke but they still end up playfully bickering over their options until he finally seizes control by yanking the menu out of Keith’s hands and holding it up out of his reach as he places the order. Keith makes him yelp midway through ordering when he sticks his hand down Shiro’s pants and the lady on the phone has to repeat their order three times before it’s confirmed.

No sooner has he hung up the call and he’s hauling Keith in to steal a kiss that his phone starts to trill on the counter.  Keith sighs heavily at the name that flashes up on screen and Shiro shoots him an apologetic look.  “Guess we should get this, she’ll just keep calling otherwise.”

“Or worse,” Keith mutters but Shiro doesn’t get a chance to ask him to elaborate on that before he’s already swiped to answer.

“Honerva,” he says coolly into the phone. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

He tries to keep a straight face when Keith mocks him and makes a rude gesture.

“Shiro, I thought it best if we had a small session tonight. You’ve been home for a few days and Keith has now moved in. How are you both doing?”

“We’re both doing well, thank you,” he replies formally.  Keith pulls another face at him and he has to struggle not to laugh.  “Actually, Keith is here too, should I put this call on speaker?”

“Why, yes, I would appreciate that,” Honerva says as Keith shoots him a filthy look.  He grins and holds his hand over the mouth piece for a heartbeat. 

“United front, baby,” he whispers with an exaggerated wink then flips the call onto speaker. He lays his phone onto the counter. Keith tries vainly to hold back a sigh.

“Are you there, Keith?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Wonderful. I spoke to your supervisor last week and she did promise to ease up on your workload to allow you to be more available for these sessions. They’re vital in this early stage of your relationship.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that-“

Shiro raises an eyebrow at Keith’s sour tone. He’s obviously not happy about Honerva’s meddling in his workplace and Shiro doesn’t blame him. Their personal life, their relationship, their _marriage,_ they had signed up for and expected this. But their careers and working life should be off limits.

On the other hand, if Honerva is the reason why Keith is standing here in his kitchen with him and not at work, then Shiro can’t help but be grateful for that too.

Honerva runs through a series of questions with them, probing not so gently about their opinions and attitudes since she last saw them and delivered the news regarding the exit clause should they need it.  She’s makes non-committal noises when Shiro calmly states they will be ignoring the eight-week deadline and to trash the potential divorce papers and her lack of acknowledgement there seems to piss Keith off.  His shoulders go rigid so Shiro draws him in, and they answer the rest of her questions with Keith’s back to Shiro’s chest.  Standing together like that really does make it feel like they’re united, a single unit and Shiro calmly answers the queries she has regarding their friends and whether he has adjusted to having Keith in his space.

“It’s like he’s always been here,” he says, half shrugging. He can’t see Keith’s reaction but he feels Keith squeezing his bionic forearm resting against Keith’s chest.  “And Black loves him already.”

“Black? Oh! Your cat. Yes, well having all members of your family, including pets, welcoming Keith into your life is important. This brings me to my next point-“

As though he heard his name, Black suddenly materialises on the counter and walks directly towards Shiro’s phone to sniff it. Shiro almost wishes Black would disconnect the call somehow when Honerva launches into a spiel regarding the next stage and he listens with only half an ear when he watches the way Keith rubs the back of Black’s head then tilts his face down to let Black headbutt him. He’s sure his heart has swollen to ten times it’s size at the sight.

“-so it will be the Holts first, then time with Keith’s uncles, are you both comfortable with that?”

Keith shifts away, enough that Shiro can see the very obvious roll of his eyes.

“Yes,” Keith says, his tone almost starting to verge on the edge of belligerent. “Is that all? Our food is here.”

“Ah. Yes. That will be all for now-“

“Great, bye!”

Keith ends the call without preamble, making Shiro chuckle.  Keith shoots him a look. “What? I wasn’t lying,” he says and he points to the security feed of the front door with a grin and before Shiro can argue, he’s paying the delivery guy and carrying the takeout over to the kitchen bench, jostling Black and swearing when Black tries to climb onto his shoulder.

“Black,” Shiro laughs, trying to disengage his cat from his husband without too much damage to Keith’s shirt.  He pours the cat onto the floor then goes to get his own meal for him as Keith dishes up theirs. So domestic, so comfortable.

Even Black seems happier with Keith in their lives.

* * *

 

(art by [yumikoyuki](http://yumikoyuki.tumblr.com/post/171860779354/here-is-some-paramedickeith-for-your))


	41. breathing in the moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rage posting this part and i apologize in advance if there are errors but I've be interrupted five million times trying to edit it and i'm sick of it so I really just want to move on to the next part. 
> 
> Also, keep in mind that Shiro is 29 in this AU (Keith is 25 if you need a reminder).

“You know, we should probably talk about the long-term stuff,” Shiro says later.

Keith pushes his plate away. They had briefly entertained the idea of eating outside on the patio but even with the sun sleeping beyond the horizon, it heat of the day lingered heavily. Instead they stay in the kitchen, side by side at the counter and Keith doesn’t mind one bit because it reminds him of their honeymoon. 

He presses his leg against his husband’s and locks their ankles together.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I have some paperwork for you to sign, access to my accounts and I updated my will-“

“Wait, what?” Keith blinks and his meal abruptly feels like lead in his stomach. “I thought… I thought we would leave that stuff until after. After the deadline,” he finishes lamely.

“Didn’t we just tell Honerva to rip up those papers?” Shiro says with exasperation. He rubs his temple slightly and Keith feels like doing the same.  “Don’t get cocky about the will, though. I’m leaving everything to Black.”

It takes a split second for Keith to realise he’s joking. “Ha, ha,” he says sarcastically.  But then he shakes his head.  “Seriously. Shiro, I think we need to talk about this.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”

“But… but you’ve already changed it?” Keith stammers, pointing to the stack of paperwork on the counter. Then he glances around, at the beautifully appointed townhouse in a comfortably upmarket part of town.  He can’t meet Shiro with this. It was well beyond his means.

“I don’t know if I can afford… this” he finally says, waving his hand vaguely.

The expression on Shiro’s face changes from a speck of confusion to realisation and then he laughs.

“Oh. Keith, no. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Yes, I do. We’re supposed to be equals,” Keith answers. He’s faintly annoyed that Shiro feels almost like he’s dismissing him and a little curl of discomfort sits at the base of his spine.  “I have to pay my share of the rent-“ he insists.

“No, Keith. I mean, I don’t pay rent here. I own this outright.”

Keith frowns and Shiro rushes to explain. “My family has always lived on base, and when my parents passed, they left me an inheritance. One that was built on by my grandfather and some very savvy investments. I’m not rich, but I’m comfortable. You don’t have to struggle-“

Keith finds himself trying to fight the urge to back away. He’s been self-sufficient since he left school, he doesn’t have a lot but what he does have he’s worked hard for. Slotting into this, the well-appointed townhouse, with the sleek car in the garage, the black access card to Shiro’s accounts… It’s too much.

The little bit of darkness inside him sits up and whispers nastily into his ear. It makes him feel like he’s being bought.

Shiro goes rigidly still beside him. “Does it make you uncomfortable that I have this?” Shiro asks quietly. He doesn’t look Keith in the eye. “Because if it is, I’ll put it on the market tomorrow and we can go where ever you want-“

“No, no, I know what this place means to you.”

Shiro shifts on the stool, turning in towards Keith and knocking their knees together.  Keith moves to face him and he doesn’t resist when Shiro twines their fingers together and rests them on his knees. He tries to work through his thoughts even as he focuses on the warmth of Shiro’s big hands curling around his smaller ones. Everything about him is so big. His hands, the width of his shoulders. His smile. It makes sense that his heart is big too. Big enough that he wants to share everything he’s spent his life working for with Keith.

Someone he’s still only just getting to know.

Keith isn’t entirely sure if he’s worthy of it. 

“Is this going to be a problem, Keith?” Shiro asks and Keith can’t lift his head to face him.  “Is this going to become something between us? Because I don’t want that. And… I’m committed to this. To us and what we’re building here. The rest of this… it’s just _stuff.”_

The warmth in Shiro’s voice coasts over him, long before the meaning behind them does. It takes him a few seconds to take them in and when he does, Keith’s heart feels like it’s going to fall out of his chest. It’s so heavy and it takes him a second to find his voice. 

“I… It’s just… I’ve always done things on my own. I’ve always had to fend for myself, ever since I left school, and I’m proud of that. This feels… this feels like I’m-”

He can’t even put it into words and he shrugs his shoulders uselessly.

“Well, put it this way,” Shiro says quietly. Shiro’s gaze is so probing, his tone is so earnest and quiet. Keith almost believes right there and then that it’s all going to work out. “It’s for our family. For you and me, and Black. And… whatever happens down the track. Even if… that… doesn’t happen, it’s for us. For our life _together._ ”

Keith has to close his eyes against the riot of emotion that Shiro’s soft statement evokes. “Shiro,” he whispers and he finally allows his mind to skitters forward when it’s only ever wanted to stay in the present. It was too scary to think about the future sometimes but now he could look forward with Shiro. Shiro – _his husband!_ \- was right, everything he said was right. He needed to stop thinking of them as two entities fighting each other and think of each other as one.

“I meant those vows. I meant what I said. We can make a life together, Keith. I’ve never felt like this before and I know it’s real,” Shiro continues.  He says it with such simplicity it makes Keith’s heartrate flutter dramatically inside his chest.

Keith doesn’t quite know how to respond. He can’t make his voice work anyway, so he lets his lips do the talking instead.  

He leans forward, staring down at their jointed hands and Shiro meets him, until they’re resting forehead to forehead.  There’s so much on the tip of his tongue he needs to say. So much he wants to say. So much he’s still so afraid to say.

He tilts up his chin and Shiro doesn’t hesitate to steal a brief kiss. Will the fear ever go away? Or will he always be hovering with part of him forever angled just towards the door, ready to bolt when it all gets too much? Would Shiro always feel like this? Or would his feelings change once the novelty of their relationship has worn off.

“It’s just… wills? It’s so morbid.”

“I know,” Shiro says then, a light chuckle breaking through the heaviness of the moment. He smooths a hand over Keith’s hair, pushing it back from Keith’s face so he can’t hide his eyes behind his fringe. It makes Keith wrinkle his nose faintly in a wordless protest and Shiro gives him a tight smile.  “But I’ve already cheated death once. I may not be so lucky next time.”

Something about that feels directly into Keith’s deep-seated fears. Of losing Shiro when he’s only just found him. He runs his gaze over the pink scars on Shiro’s skin and something that feels awfully close to panic seems to lurk at the back of his thoughts, itching away until he can no longer ignore them.

“Stop talking like that,” Keith grits out, his voice as hollow as the space in his chest at the thought of something, _anything_ happening to Shiro, and the realisation of how close he’d come to not knowing him at all makes Keith feel faintly sick. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”

Shiro lets out a soft exhale. He looks almost like he wants to argue but then he lets it go. “Okay,” he answers softly. Keith can feel the meaning behind it. _Okay, let’s not argue._ Shiro drags a metallic fingertip down the side of Keith’s cheek until it lands under his chin. He nudges Keith’s chin upwards and their eyes meet.

“Enough with the heavy stuff.  Tell me more about your day.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro has already crawled into their bed, comfortable enough in front of his husband that he doesn’t bother with a sleep shirt anymore.  That in itself is liberating and its still hot outside anyway, even with the doors to the balcony flung open to let in the sounds of the rain washing down outside. The air is sticky but Keith likes the smells the rain brings so Shiro doesn’t complain. 

And if he closes his eyes, the music of the heavy rain takes him back to their bungalow on the beach.

He watches now as Keith moves around their bedroom, his sleep pants hanging low on his hips and a toothbrush in his hand. He always has to be moving when he’s on task, Shiro realises. Always doing two things at once with his brows pushed together with a little crease in the centre that makes him look adorably fierce. He’s still damp from his shower and he takes a moment to rinse his mouth and dump his toothbrush before coming back into the bedroom.

“Damnit, I just remembered I should really do my uniforms. Shiro, how do I work that space age looking washing machine you’ve got in the laundry?”

Shiro is almost too busy admiring the way the lamp’s glow illuminates the sparse trail of hair that leans down somewhere delicious to take note of what his husband is asking.

“Ah, what was that?”

Shiro makes the supreme effort to drag his gaze upwards to meet his husband’s eyes.  Keith leans against the doorway, folding his arms across his chest and trying not to laugh.  “Like what you see?” he grins and it hits Shiro right then just how much Keith means to him.

“Very much,” he says softly. He pats the sheets beside him. He’s been thinking about something all day, now it might be his chance to make it a reality. “Come here, baby.”

“No,” Keith shakes his head. “No, I need to do my uniforms or I might run out. We’re probably going to end up really busy later in the week.”

Shiro tries not to let his mood deflate at the mention of being busy. He knows Keith works hard but coupling his sporadic and long shifts with the demands from Honerva and the experiment makes him wonder if there’s actually going to be much time left over for them. For moments like this, the sweet, purely domestic moments when all Shiro really wants to do is draw Keith into his arms and bury himself in his presence.

“Shiro,” Keith says again and it’s the closest he’s ever heard Keith come to a whine. “Can you show me? I don’t want to end up accidently flooding your fancy tiled floors with soap suds or something-“

Shiro chuckles at the mental image.  “They’re your fancy floors now too,” he comments. He’s going to have to keep reminding Keith of that every chance he gets.

Keith flushes a little. Then his eyes narrow. “Why do I get the feeling you’re stalling?”

“Me? No. No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh my god, you don’t know how to use it, do you?”

“No! I… Well, I mean, I’m sure I could work it out eventually. I can fly a space shuttle, I’m sure I can work out a washing machine-“

“Shiro!” Keith is shaking his head. He looks disappointed enough that Shiro feels like he needs to jump in to defend himself.  

“Hey,” Shiro protests. “This place comes with a housekeeping service and laundry is included, I’ve never needed to worry about it.”

“Unbelievable,” Keith mutters.  He unfolds himself from the doorway. “Come on, get up.”

“What? No-”

“Get. Up. You’re going to come and help me to figure it out.”

They stare each other down for a heartbeat but Keith’s got the upper hand because he’s standing so Shiro tries to change tact. He opts to pull out the big guns. Literally.

He makes a show of stretching, knowing that his muscles rippling in the low light will grab Keith’s attention. When he leans back against the headboard, Keith’s eyes have darkened. Even his lips have parted slightly and Shiro sends a prayer up that he listened to all of Hunks nagging about being dedicated about working out to build up the strength he needed to make the prosthetic arm work for him. The bulk of his muscles was a nice bonus if it made Keith look at him like _that._

“Can’t you leave it for the morning?” Shiro tries to coax. Keith’s gaze snaps up from running over his pectorals to find his eyes. Shiro pours a little bit of heat into his words. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you all day.”

“Oh?” Keith narrows his eyes. Shiro can see he’s internally fighting but his interest is piqued.  “What?”

“Come here,” Shiro holds out his hand and he almost laughs when Keith hesitates all of three seconds before he sighs dramatically and crawls across the bed to where Shiro wants him. Shiro pulls his husband close, tangling one hand into his raven hued locks and the other curling against his waist. He ghosts his lips over Keith’s but he doesn’t let them connect yet, not even when Keith tries to chase them.

Keith makes a muted noise that sounds a like a growl in protest.

“Do you remember last night?” Shiro asks softly. He bends down to nip at the underside of Keith’s jaw and Keith exhales softly.  There’s the taste of mint on his husband’s breath and his skin carries the scent of the soap he used in the shower. He’s like a mountain breeze. “Keith?”

“Uh, what?”

“Last night?” Shiro repeats with a quiet chuckle. He loves how responsive Keith is to his touch. He doesn’t try to fight it, he doesn’t try to hide it.  Everything Keith feels is right there on the surface for Shiro to read.

And it’s stunning.

“What about it?” Keith finally blinks in confusion. Shiro smiles and rubs his fingertips into Keith’s scalp, loving the way his hair feels like silk again his hands.  The flash of his wedding band amongst the strands makes his heart twist.

It’s almost too much sometimes. The weight of what he’s carrying around in his heart for this man in his arms. He’s beautiful and fierce and everything Shiro could ever dream of having.

He loves him.

“I want you to do that again,” he finally manages to say but Keith is too busy trying to connect to Shiro’s mouth. It takes Shiro repeating his request before Keith pauses and mutters against his lips.  

“I’ll do whatever you want, just kiss me-“

Shiro can’t hold back the light laugh before he puts Keith out of his misery and slides their mouths together. It starts with just a brush of their lips, then a swipe of their tongues and just that deeper contact alone seems to set off a chain of reaction and then Keith is climbing into his lap and curling against him as Shiro’s hands are flexing in the knot of Keith’s hair and dragging across the wide expanse of skin of his back.

It’s right where Shiro wants him though. Right here in his lap. He lets their kiss go on a few long moments more, until Keith finally throws his head back, baring the column of his throat to Shiro’s mouth, letting out a tortured whimper and grinding against Shiro as Shiro scrapes his teeth lightly against Keith’s skin.

“Ride me,” Shiro whispers then. Keith mutters something nonsensical and Shiro realises that Keith may not have heard him. He drags his hands up, cupping Keith’s face and pausing enough that his husband’s dazed violet orbs shine in the lamplight. “Ride me,” he says again, injecting a hint of command into his tone.

It works. It works because Keith’s eyes suddenly spark and Shiro can almost pinpoint the exact moment his command sinks in. Keith goes still. “The way you were moving on me last night, the way you took want you needed,” Shiro continues. “Do that again.”

If Shiro hadn’t been watching Keith so intently, he might have missed the moment of hesitation. Of the way a flicker of unease slipped over his eyes. Shiro smooths a thumb over Keith’s lip gently, offering a silent encouragement.   

“I.. we haven’t-“

“You would look so beautiful,” Shiro says softly. “I want to see your face when you slide down on me, I want to hold your hips as you move, I want to wrap my hand around you when you come all over-“

“Fuck,” Keith whispers harshly, his eyes drifting closed. Shiro has to hold back a smug smile.

“Come on, baby,” he says again. He’s aroused himself with just the thought of it. He wants Keith bouncing himself on Shiro’s lap so badly it almost hurts. He wants Keith to take want he wants, what he needs. He wants Keith to take everything, his home, his heart. Everything. He wants it, he wants it more than he can ever remember wanting anything for a very long time.

Keith, thankfully, doesn’t keep him waiting for long. They tear away the barriers of their clothes quickly then when they’re naked, Keith shoves Shiro onto his back on the sheets and wastes no time throwing a leg over him. There’s barely enough time for Shiro to scramble for the lube and slick himself up before Keith is already prepping himself open and Shiro makes a small noise of disappointment at the speed they’re going.  He tries to reach for him, to slow Keith down but Keith waves him off and then he’s already trying to take him. Shiro objects weakly.

“Keith, baby, wait-“ but his protest dies when Keith notches him, making him gasp and arch into the sheets. “I don’t want you to hurt-“

“I’m good,” Keith gasps. “Want this. Want you. _Need you-”_

“Holy shit, _Keith-“_

He has to fight to keep his eyes open, Keith feels too good and he’s so beautiful in his ferocity that Shiro is almost blinded. Keith feels hot and slick and his hands splay against Shiro’s chest as he lowers himself down.

“This what you wanted?” Keith throws out a breathless challenge. Shiro can’t answer, his voice is gone, trapped somewhere he can’t reach under the faintly feral glow in Keith’s eyes. He has to suck in air when Keith deliberately wets down a finger then brushes it over his nipple.

Fuck. Holy fuck.

“Keith-“ and then he can’t say any more because Keith is drawing himself up then sliding down again. His length is hard and leaking and Shiro rousts himself enough out of his pleasure induced daze to curl his hand around him, rubbing the tip of his human thumb over the slickness pooling over his engorged head.  He almost regrets going so fast, he wishes he could have had Keith in his mouth, he wishes he could have tasted him and run his tongue over every part of him.

That thought stalls when a low moan falls out of Keith’s mouth, right as he gasps out _“Takashi,”_ and Shiro’s brain stutters.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, sliding his hand up and down Keith’s length briefly before Keith shifts again. He draws up and slides down again, a few more slow times, then wriggles slightly, enough that Shiro wonders if he’s uncomfortable but he doesn’t get the chance to ask when Keith rocks back, his palms moving back and landing on Shiro’s thighs as he bucks.

“Oh my god,” Shiro whispers. Keith’s body is arched back and on glorious display, every lean ridge of muscle gilded gold and Shiro feels a rush of gratitude they left the light on so he didn’t miss a second of this. With each movement, Keith’s length bounces and slaps against the rigid planes of Shiro’s abs.

Fuck, it’s an effort not to grasp Keith’s hips and fuck up into him, he feels so good and Shiro isn’t sure if he can handle this. He glides his hands up, over the flushed skin of Keith’s chest and hums in satisfaction as Keith’s movements get a little wilder. Keith tosses his head and a strand of hair gets stuck on the corner of his mouth but his eyes are shut and he’s too far gone to notice.

“Slow down, baby,” Shiro says, his voice breathless. He wants this to last, he wants to eke it out but he’s not sure he can. There’s no finesse with Keith like this, he’s just hungry and half wild and Shiro has never experienced anything like it. 

He glides his palm over Keith’s form again and whispers his name, and it’s like a miracle the way Keith immediately settles, like he’s a wild animal that only Shiro has the ability to tame and it occurs to him that it’s the trust there. It’s the way Keith is so receptive to him, even when taking what he wants, taking what he needs, he’s still so vividly aware of Shiro and every whisper and gasp that comes from him.

Shiro can’t doubt it anymore. This fiercely beautiful creature has been made for him. Just for him, crafted from the starlight he’d spent his whole life chasing. Maybe it wasn’t what was outside the stratosphere he was chasing, maybe Keith was the only star he needed.

The swell that catches his heart makes his brows meet and his mouth part softly, and Keith, from his vantage point above him notices it. He curls back over, curving his body over Shiro’s chest, leaning forward enough that he can catch Shiro’s gaze, until there’s nowhere Shiro can look but at his husband. And it’s like he knows. Like Keith can read every single thought and emotion running riot in Shiro’s body and he leans down to kiss him, tasting everything Shiro can’t give voice to.

The thought comes again, this time louder and vibrant and rushing through his brain and his body like a freight train.  _I love him._

He gasps suddenly, and he wants to give voice to it, but he can’t because Keith leans back, and shifts and then he’s shuddering and chanting Shiro’s name like a mantra and Shiro doesn’t think he’s heard anything more beautiful.

_Takashi, Takashi, Takashi._

The splash of wet heat against his stomach sets him off. His palms and fingers lock against Keith’s hips and he drives up, over and over until Keith is weak and limp in his arms and Shiro cradles him against his violently beating heart, trying to catch his breath and wondering how can his world be rocked so many times before he falls off it completely.

Or maybe he already has, and he’s floating in a galaxy of nothing but Keith.

 

* * *

 

The next few days go by comfortably. Trigel stays true to her word and keeps Keith’s work hours in check, much to the appreciation of Lance as well. The rest of the team seem happy to shoulder some extra hours and Keith is strangely touched by how supportive the entire unit seems to be about his marriage, even if it’s less than conventional.

It seems they all want to see him happy.

He tries to make a point to be back at the townhouse before Shiro gets home and the bright curve of Shiro’s smile when he walks in the door to find Keith and Black curled up together on the couch never fails to make Keith’s heart flip flop in his chest. Shiro seems so pleased by the simplest, most domestic of moments, moments that Keith had never really given much thought to before.  Even something as simple as wandering around the local supermarket seemed to make Shiro ridiculously happy and when he suggested they do it themselves instead of letting the usual standing order be delivered automatically, Keith was powerless to resist.

They’d ended up bickering playfully over the what variety of tinned food to get for Black and Keith discovers his husband is… well, a bit of a snob about some things.

“No, Keith, I am not getting that stuff for Black. Look at the country of origin. It’s all imported. Who knows what kind of lax regulations they might have.”

“Isn’t imported stuff supposed to be better?” Keith argues back.  “How do you know, anyway? Maybe it’s our regulations that are lax.”

“No. Keith. Just… no. I need to put my foot down about this.”

Keith laughs and puts the can he selected back on the shelf. “Okay, okay, wow, I didn’t realise you would be so picky about cat food.”

“Only the best for my boys,” he says dismissively and Keith isn’t entirely sure if Shiro is talking about Black or himself.

Shiro tosses a few cans into the trolley and they move into the next aisle, this time arguing over breakfast cereals.  Shiro’s eyes bulge when he spies Keith reaching for something that’s bright and colourful and no doubt comprised completely of nothing but sugar and artificial colourings. Keith doesn’t actually want it but seeing Shiro struggle with a diplomatic way to hold back his horror yet still politely express his disapproval was too entertaining to resist. It’s a valiant effort on Shiro’s part before Keith finally snickers.

“I’m kidding,” Keith puts it back on the shelf, unable to hold back his laughter at the way Shiro’s shoulders sag in relief.

“Thank god,” he mutters. “So which one do you actually want?”

Keith eyes the rows of options and sighs. “I don’t know. I’m not a big cereal eater. I usually just have coffee.”

Shiro gives him a flat look. “Or three,” he comments.

Keith gives him a wolfish grin in reply. “Four.”

Shiro shakes his head . “How do you not end up bouncing off the walls with all that caffeine in your system? I don’t know how Lance puts up with you.”

“Hell if I know,” Keith shrugs. “Lance reckons I sustain myself on caffeine and rage.”

“Does Lance supply you with the rage?” Shiro asks dryly and Keith snickers under his breath as they turn back to their dilemma.  “Okay, but seriously, it shouldn’t be this hard.”

An older man with one kid in the trolley and another trailing behind him pauses nearby.  “I’ve got some experts over here, you could ask them,” he says with a roll of eyes and a nod at his kids.

“Sure,” Shiro laughs. “I guess we need all the help we can get.”

“Speak for yourself,” Keith mutters back playfully.

“So, what do you suggest then?” Shiro asks the little boy hiding behind his father’s leg. “Wait, are you old enough to eat this stuff?”

He creeps out at Shiro’s question. “My dad only lets me have cornflakes but papa lets me have whatever I want on weekends.”

“Yeah? And how old are you, my man?”

“Seven!” the boy says proudly.

Shiro gasps, placing a hand against his chest dramatically. “No way. Me too!”

Keith almost chokes trying to hold back his laughter at Shiro’s response. The boy eyes Shiro suspiciously.  “You don’t look seven,” he challenges. 

He looks at Keith who schools his face into a solemn expression and nods seriously. “It’s true. He really is seven.”

“Seven and a quarter, actually,” Shiro says under his breath so that only Keith can hear.  The little boy still looks suspicious and his father just looks confused. Keith wonders if maybe he regrets striking up a conversation with the weird newlyweds in the cereal aisle all of a sudden.

Shiro must catch on too because he chuckles and holds a hand up. “I swear, I really am seven,” and he goes on to explain about leap years, crouching down to the boy’s level.  Even crouching, he still towers over him but he pulls his phone out of his pocket and shows something to the boy that has him exclaiming excitedly and something in Keith’s chest cracks and swells and just when he thinks he can’t fall any further, he tumbles a little bit more.

Some of his emotions must have shown on his face because the dad gives him an amused look. He eyes the ring on Keith’s hand. “I’m guessing you guys haven’t been married long?”

“Uh,” Keith has to blink, snapping himself back into the moment. “No, not really.”

“Well, enjoy the childfree years while you can,” he jokes. “It all changes once these rugrats come along. Come on, Luke.  We’d better get going or your papa is going to send a search party out for us.”

“Dad! Dad! Did you hear-“

The little family moves down the aisle and Keith suddenly finds it hard to breathe. 

“You okay?” Shiro asks him. He steps close to slide an arm around Keith’s waist and Keith suddenly wonders if he can be selfless enough to share Shiro with anyone else, even a couple of kids and suspects that deep down he might not be. It wouldn’t be fair to steal that chance from Shiro.  Shiro would make an excellent father, it would be Keith that wouldn’t.

“Yeah,” he shrugs off his thoughts and forces a smile. He only had a few more hours before he had to go to work and he didn’t want to ruin the time he had with his husband worrying about things that may never come to pass.  “Yeah, I’m okay.  Still don’t know what kind of cereal we want though.”

Shiro laughs. “Sorry, I side tracked the expert.”

“Seven,” Keith snorts. “Like that’s not creepy at all.”

“God, Keith. You’re such a cradle snatcher. What’s wrong with you?” Shiro shakes his head mournfully and grabs the trolley and a box of cornflakes. His eyes are sparkling silver even under the harsh lighting in the supermarket as Keith splutters briefly. Then Keith decides he might as well play along.

“That’s it, I’ve had enough of your backchat. Go to your room,” Keith mock threatens at Shiro’s retreating back.  Shiro laughs over his shoulder. 

“Only if you come with me,” he winks. That trolley ended up abandoned in the middle of the cereal aisle.

They make plans to for another date night, and Keith almost forgets he doesn’t actually work a standard work week.  He sneaks home early and enlists the help of Hunk to attempt making a meal for Shiro, something home made but simple enough to show he cares.  Hunk shows up with enough food to feed an army.

“What if he doesn’t like lasagna though?” Keith frets once they slide it into the oven to bake. He never thought to ask Shiro about his pasta preferences but Hunk shakes his head.

“Doesn’t like lasagna,” he scoffs. “Ha, ha. That’s funny. You’re funny. Shiro didn’t tell us you were so funny, Keith.”

Hunk leaves and Keith is focusing so intently on the lasagna cooking in the oven that he doesn’t even hear Shiro come home until Shiro is wrapping his arms around him from behind and leaving a trail of wet kisses against Keith’s neck. They end up half naked on the kitchen floor, eating an overcooked lasagna with crispy edges and Black glaring at them in disgust from the couch.

In the early hours of that night, Shiro wakes abruptly with an aching shoulder and the memory of bad dreams that Keith soothes away with gentle touches. They find themselves whispering together in the dark again, more stories about their childhoods.

“I wish I could have met you as kid,” Shiro says sleepily. Keith huffs out a small laugh. His fingers trace along the grooves of Shiro’s bionic arm, adding the extra pressure he knows Shiro enjoys. 

“No, you don’t. I was a brat,” he pauses for a beat, already anticipating Shiro’s next comment. “Don’t say it-“

“-still a brat,” Shiro whispers and Keith has to resist the urge to poke him in his side but they laugh together quietly. He stops tracing Shiro’s arm to reduce the feedback and eventually Shiro falls asleep, heavy and comfortable with Keith spooned in behind him.

Keith is happy. He’s so happy.

He has never tasted this kind of quiet joy before. This kind of soul deep bliss and soul deep contentment that colours his entire world.  He’s equal parts awed and terrified by it and he braces himself for when the gentle equilibrium of his life will begin to falter.

Because it will.

It always does.


	42. started a stranger, a love endangered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, science? Don’t know her. Oh, and Keith has a potty mouth.  
> NSFW shenanigans towards the end.

Morning comes and Shiro wakes up alone. There’s a text on his cell from Keith telling him he got called in early and didn’t want to wake him so he goes about his usual routine to start his day.

It’s odd coming back from his run to find the townhouse still empty aside from Black waiting expectantly for his morning meal in the kitchen. He misses the company he had over the past few days, the bustle before their day started. The warm little signs of affection before they went their separate ways.

“Don’t look at me like that, buddy,” Shiro waggles a finger at the cat.  “I know Keith would have fed you already.”

The few pieces of scattered kibble around his bowl proves his point.

By the time he gets to the garrison, the sun is already stretching her long golden fingers over the world and life at the base has already settled into a familiar rhythm. Boots pound against the pavement as cadets run through their morning drills and the air is heavy with the rumble of the jets sitting idle on the tarmac, their pilots waiting patiently for the signal to take to the skies.

It gives Shiro a warm little thrill in his chest to know that soon, he’s going to be joining them.

He had expected to be required to jump through some hoops to requalify for flight and for the most part, he breezed through it. He knew the controls intimately, he understood the crafts and could fly the simulators blindfolded. And he was in the peak physical condition needed to withstand the external pressures on his body that hypersonic flight demanded.

In peak physical condition, if you didn’t count the fact he had a bionic arm.

“Okay, so we need to know how this thing is going to perform under pressure,” Hunk is saying as he waves something that looks like a screwdriver around.

Pidge frowns at him from her perch at the workbench and yanks the screwdriver from his hand but he continues without missing a beat, waving a big beefy hand instead. “The G forces are going to be the biggest hurdle.”

“What do you mean?”  Shiro stares at the holographic display but it might as well be an alien language to him. None of it makes much sense.  He’d been hovering on the edge of excitement when he’d strolled into Hunk’s lab earlier in the morning after giving his cadets a free period but now it’s starting to fade under the force of some very real concerns. Getting back into the skies wasn’t going to be as simple as he’d hoped.

“Well, too much flow and it could interrupt the circuits and it will overload. Worst case, you’ll black out.  Best case and you’ll just lose mobility and control,” Pidge explains.

“Right,” Shiro nods.

He’s familiar enough with the basics although the idea of losing mobility and therefore the ability to control his flight is abruptly disturbing. One thing to hurtle to your doom and be oblivious to it, it was another to see it coming and be helpless to do anything about it. “So how do we combat that?”

Beside him, Matt is studying the hologram, a slight downturn to his lips.  He looks pale against the drab grey of the garrison’s officers uniform and Shiro feels a pang of guilt. “I hope you weren’t up all night working on this.” 

The three of them exchange glances around the workbench but it’s Pidge finally shrugs then slides off her stool.

“We’ve been working on this for a while, just in case,” she says. Hunk follows her and together they drag over a trolley.

“Working on what?” Shiro asks.  His eyes drop to the tech that’s been grafted to his body. He wonders if there’s a way to fly without it, but that doesn’t seem to be possible. Maybe his days of piloting the starfighters are over and the only way he’ll get back into the skies is via cargo class. 

It doesn’t sound anywhere near as enticing.

He looks up when Hunk wheels the trolley closer. Placed on top of it is a heavy grey case. It doesn’t look garrison issue and the grey lined with black reminds him oddly of his hand. Matt gives him a small nudge.

“Open it.”

He glances around at the small group but the three of them are all watching him with expectant expressions. He wonders if he should feel nervous and he gets a brief flash of memory of the first time the high-tech prosthetic had been presented to him after the crash. It’s a moment that feels oddly familiar and Shiro wonders what life changing object will be inside that case this time. “Ah, okay?”

He flicks the latch and a small access panel appears. 

“It’s registered to your thumb print.”

He raises an eyebrow and Pidge grins at him. “No, your metal one,” she says as Shiro is about to place his human thumb against the pad.  “They talk to each other.”

Okay, so that was kind of weird but he shrugs and follows her instructions. The case makes a faint whirring noise before the top unfolds and opens up.  Nestled neatly inside is something that looks like a bodysuit, jet black with white trim and it takes him a split second to realise it’s a flight suit.

“Is.. is this what I think it is?” he asks. He runs a finger over the material but it’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before. It feels thick, almost rubbery and when he leans down to inspect it closer, it seems to be inlaid with tiny tubular patterns over its surface.

“It’s been designed to work with the tech on your arm. To keep your blood flow regulated,” Matt says proudly. He launches into a spiel explaining the intricacies that Shiro can barely follow.

“This… this is incredible. It must have taken you months. But… how did you know I would need it?”

“We didn’t,” Matt says simply. 

“But we hoped,” Pidge adds and he’s so overwhelmed he can hardly speak. Pidge crosses to his side in a handful of giant steps and he manages to open his arms to catch her just before she lands against his chest. How can something so tiny contain so much sheer force, he’ll never work it out.

She squeezes him tightly and he welcomes the hug. She smells like peppermint and sunshine and a moment later, Matt is hugging them and then Hunk wails something incoherent and Shiro ends up laughing and smushed in between all of them.

“Thank you so much, you guys,” he says quietly. His voice is tight in his chest and there’s something damp on his cheeks but he doesn’t care. Between his new husband and his friends-come-family, he has never felt so lucky.

He’s running through the messages on his terminal when Iverson strides into his office a few hours later and hands him a folder without so much as a grunt. He looks more tense than usual, and Shiro knows the commander well enough to understand when he’s working up to something.

He flips through the file and frowns at the directives and the new telemetries to be rolled out to the cadet’s simulations.  “What’s all this?”

“I can’t tell you that, Shiro.”

“You have to give me something. These… these are intense. And is this a _martyr_ operation? Iverson, what’s going on?” 

“It’s classified.”

Shiro resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, it was. And he was just a contractor on a need to know basis. Right.

“Of course,” he mutters then dumps the folder onto his desk. He expects Iverson to turn on his heel and leave but the older man pauses. “Is there something else?”

“Yes.”

The commander eyes Shiro shrewdly and Shiro can feel the weight of that gaze. He knows something is coming, he just can’t imagine what. He’s halfway between annoyed and intrigued. Iverson had been his Commander even when Shiro was a cadet, he’d helped Shiro rise to the ranks and sent him off with a smart salute when it was time for him to show his mettle as s test pilot. 

He’d expected Iverson to have his back after the crash, to vouch for him at the trial but Iverson had left him swinging in the wind.

And trust like that… once broken, it was almost impossible to get back. 

Iverson knew it just as well as Shiro did.

“Your request to get back in the skies alongside the cadets has caught the attention of the higher ups,” Iverson states. Shiro feels his stomach drop.

“Oh?” he hedges.

“You’re to be reinstated. Full duties, should you wish.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Shiro says dryly, not really considering Iverson to be serious.  He’s almost dismissive in his answer. “The pay is better as a private contractor.”

Iverson chooses to ignore that.

“Shiro,” he tries again. “You’ve been a part of the garrison in some shape or form since you were a child. You were one of our most promising pilots, you were slated for a number of missions to space, you should be more than just a contractor. We need you, Shiro. The garrison needs you.”

“ _The gar-_ You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Iverson hides it well, but there’s a brief flash of red against his cheeks and his voice turns more gruff than usual. “You’ve always been one of our best.”

There’s something faintly buttery in Iverson’s tone that immediately sets Shiro’s teeth on edge. His mind flashes back to the months following the doomed prototype flight, struggling to stand in front of the huddle of garrison brass as they picked him apart.

“Didn’t stop the top brass from trying to pin that crash on me. Pilot Error. Or did you forget about the months of hearings they put me through to clear my name?”

Iverson’s façade cracks slightly then and he has the grace to look uncomfortable at Shiro’s hard tone, but not uncomfortable enough to be apologetic. If anything, he shifts his shoulders and stands up a little taller.

Not to be outdone, Shiro unfolds himself from his chair and rises to his full height. It’s worth getting up just to see Iverson’s eyes narrow and the way he has to lift his chin slightly to meet Shiro’s eyes. 

“Yet you’re still here,” Iverson growls out.

Shiro has to bite back the very real flare of anger that sits heavy in his core. It’s been years but in spite of the collected and forgiving front he offers, inside there is still a part of him that seethes in resentment. The fact that Iverson is trying to imply his presence on the garrison base as some kind of bygones be bygones, sweep it all under the rug, no harm, no foul, makes Shiro’s throat burn.

“I’m here because I believe in _the mission,_ Iverson,” he snaps. “I believe in what the garrison is trying to achieve. What they stand for… most of the time.”

Iverson eyes him.  “You could go to space.”

Shiro stills, instantly replaying those words over in his mind. It was a dream he had long since believed he had put aside, pushed to the far recesses of his mind to gather dust.  When he speaks, his voice is low and faintly dangerous, as though he’s not quite sure if Iverson is fucking with him.  And he’s not sure.  He’s really not sure at all.

“What did you say?”

“It comes with a promotion,” Iverson continues easily. He stands ramrod straight, eyes hard with his hands clasped behind his back. To anyone else, it’s an intimidating stance but Shiro is long past being shoved around by the Garrison brass. 

Or so he thought.

A long, still moment passes.

“I’m listening,” he finally says when he realises Iverson isn’t just going to volunteer the offer until he gets a significant response from him. 

“Commander.”

That makes him swallow. Shiro had been a lieutenant when the prototype went down. Commander would be a significant jump up, straight over Captain, the rank he was so close to achieving before the crash.

And it burns. It burns and he’s suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

“You trying to butter me up, Iverson?” He can’t help it. His voice is hard with held back hope.

His response seems to catch Iverson by surprise. He relaxes his stance and when he turns on his heel to cross the room to look over the framed star charts that adorn the walls of Shiro’s small windowless office, the tone of his voice changes into something warmer. Something personable and Shiro feels rather than sees the rigidness of the ranks between them fall away. At least for a moment.

“Look, Shiro. There are things happening I am not at liberty to disclose,” Iverson says. He won’t meet Shiro’s eye and when he speaks again, his tone is coloured by frustration. “Hell, even I don’t have all the facts. But… There are pieces in motion and… you would be a valuable asset. What do you say?”

A year ago, Shiro would have given anything for this. To have a chance to get back into the black… He felt comfortable enough now to fly and told himself it would be enough, but he still felt that tug of the stars.

But now?

“Things have changed for me. I’m married now.”

Iverson waves a hand dismissively as though to discount it. Like it’s nothing. A moot point. “If your husband loves you, he’ll let you do this. A few months rotation to Mars, some months here and there on the new Luna base won’t do any harm. If he’s generous enough, you might even be able to go as far as Ganymede.”

Shiro isn’t sure that Iverson is the best person to take relationship advice from so he tries to ignore that but the words _if he loves you_ , skitter over his heart and leaves behind a sharp scratch that darkens his thoughts. 

 _If he loves you._ That’s just the rub isn’t it. He’s not exactly sure if Keith does in spite of whispers in the dark that might have suggested otherwise. 

Shiro’s legs feel abruptly weak and he retakes his seat to hide the tremor in his knees. Iverson takes that as his signal to leave and he ambles his way towards the door. The slight smear of satisfaction on his face makes Shiro feel distinctly unsettled. 

“And my arm?” he remembers to ask before the older man can disappear though the door. Iverson’s grunt is dismissive.

“Despite the fact it’s not officially garrison tech, I’m sure there are… allowances we can make.”

 _How magnanimous_ , Shiro wants to mutter but he doesn’t say it out loud.

“Think about it,” Iverson continues after a moment.  “ _Commander_ Shirogane. Your parents… your grandfather would be proud.”

That was a blow low enough to make Shiro’s head snap up but Iverson already has his back turned and his hand on the door panel and Shiro can’t see his face. He’d be lying if the idea didn’t flutter down and take root somewhere inside of him.  It could be a chance to make things right.

His head starts to ache as he tries to rein in his thoughts.

“Wait,” he calls out and Iverson pauses.  “Will this mean I’ll have to call you by rank now?”

Iverson hums gruffly but his lips twitch.  “Only if you accept.”

 

* * *

 

They’re unassuming, the white curling papers poking out of the gap between the side and the locker door. So unassuming that Keith doesn’t notice them at first. When he catches sight of them and pulls them out, he expects them to be some kind of staff notice and not bothering to wonder too hard about why there aren’t any in his teammates lockers. He’s surprised when he uncurls them and reads a few lines, then the surprise turns to anger.

His blood rushes in his ears and his stomach drops. It cuts through the chatter of Lance beside him.

“Trigel? Trigel!” he’s yelling. “Who put these here?”

Lance immediately looks at him sharply. “Dude, what are you hollering about?”

Keith ignores him and pushes past without answering. He’s clutching the paper so tightly in his hands that it crumples. He’s dimly aware of Lance trailing after him and even that makes him want to snarl. His skin prickles and he can feel the rage rolling off him in waves and he almost wishes Lance would come close enough to shove, just so he can find a target for his fury but Lance is smart enough and knows Keith well enough to hang back just out of reach.

He still tries to reach him though. “Keith? What’s going on?”

Keith storms down the short corridor that leads into the rec area and slams open the door.  It swings back and collides loudly with the wall, bouncing and shuddering with enough force that he has to slap out a hand to stop it coming back on him.  The remaining teams that aren’t out on call outs look up in surprise at the commotion.

Keith stands there, chest heaving and eyes sparking fire, the papers clenched tightly in his fist. He holds them up and his hand trembles.

_“Who did this?”_

They exchange confused glances but it’s Lance ducking under his arm and slipping into the room to put himself between Keith and them that answers. 

“Keith, what’s going on, man. What is that?”

Keith shoves the papers at Lances chest with enough force that Lance has to take a step back. Lance uncrunches the paper, trying to smooth it out and he starts to read under his breath. His voice trails off and he lets out a soft “ _fuck.”_

“Who did this?” Keith demands again, but this time the anger has faded and his voice is just rough with something that feels an awful lot like hurt.

“Keith, man, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rolo says, his slow drawl matching his placating hand movements as he stands up and approaches. Keith and Rolo have never gotten along but Keith has a hard time trying to imagine Rolo stooping to this level.

“Keith, why don’t you explain-“ Trigel starts but the placating edge to her tone scratches at the edge of Keith’s memory and the simmering spark inside him ignites again.  He almost can’t see beyond the red haze and his chest heaves with the effort to catch his breath. Something that might even be a tear pricks behind his eyes.

“If you have something to say about Shiro,” he starts to say, but his throat is so raw he’s having trouble getting the words out.  “Something to say about _my husband_ , then say it _to my fucking face-“_

A part of him knows. A wiser part, a stronger part of him knows this isn’t his real target but it hurts too much for him to hold back. Shiro is his now, and by god he would fight anyone who dared try to say a bad word against him.

_Pilot Error._

What the fuck. Shiro doesn’t deserve this, _he doesn’t._  

He spins on his heel, leaving everyone gaping wordlessly at his back and barges back the way he came. When he’s back at his locker, he pauses for a heartbeat to stare at the name etched into the surface of the door - _K. Kogane_ – and tries to picture a different name there before the rolling emotions crawls up his throat and his hands start to shake again enough that he can’t seem to line up the key with the lock.

Lance materializes by his side, silent as he takes the key from his hand then inserts it himself.  “These stupid things stick some times,” he says casually, keeping his voice low. With a quiet click, the door pops open.

It doesn’t stick. It never has, but Keith appreciates what Lance is trying to do.

“Thanks,” he manages to say and he sucks in a deep breath to bite back the urge to slam the door open then kick it again for good measure. Maybe if he punches it hard enough, the anger will get carried away with the force and he might be able to catch his breath.

It takes a minute or two of him staring into the dark recesses of his locker until he manages to find enough calm to acknowledge his friend waiting patiently beside him. Lance still has the papers sticking out of the pocket of his uniform pants, his arms folded across his chest as he leans back against the wall. His expression is troubled enough that Keith experiences a twinge of guilt.

“You want to tell me what this is all about?”

Keith shoots him an incredulous look then.  “Are you joking?” he demands harshly. “Didn’t you read it?”

Lance digs the paper out and holds it up. He’s unphased by Keith’s ire but he’s frowning a little in confusion.  “They’re just old articles from a few years ago about the crash. It’s all public record.  Why are you so worked up?”

Just like that, Keith’s temper flares back up and he slaps the door of his locker hard enough to send it careering back into its slot.  The keys jangle angrily and Lance purses his lips. “Keith, seriously. What the hell?”

Keith fixes his gaze on the sway of the keys. There’s a keyring attached to it, something he’s had for years but the emblem is so long faded he can’t remember what it used to be. He focuses on that as he tries to articulate his thoughts.

Another long minute passes then Lance blinks. “You guys haven’t talked about it, have you?”

Keith’s mind coasts back to the night in the bungalow, Shiro’s quiet voice in the dark talking about the crash with Keith curled up behind him. He hadn’t mentioned what came after, the added trauma the garrison put him through but Keith vaguely remembered seeing it on the news in the weeks after the storm. He’d put two and two together a while back, but they’d not talked about it since and Keith refused to ask.

“Only briefly,” he answers. Then he sighs.  “I don’t want to see that stuff,” he says.  “If Shiro wants me to know about it, then I want hear it from him, not… not like this.” Keith pauses long enough to scrub a hand against his face.  The angers worn away now. He just feels defeated instead. “I owe him that.”

Lance gives him a concerned look. “So, you didn’t know?”

“No. I mean, I guessed. I knew there was more to the story but… I don’t care. It doesn’t change anything. If Shiro wants me to know, he’ll tell me himself.”

“Someone’s fucking with you then,” Lance muses then his gaze gets hard as it darts around the room.  “Wait, you don’t think it was one of us though, do you?”

“No,” Keith shakes his head, a pit opening in his stomach when he thinks about the apology he’s going to have to offer up to his colleagues who wore the brunt of his accusations. They didn’t deserve that either. “But… who else would do this?”

“You know, if it hadn’t been for the bonding we had with Lotor recently, he’d be at the top of my list of suspects,” Lance considers.

Keith watches him wearily when he hauls the offending articles out of his pockets and starts shredding them with his hands.  He dumps them into the trash. “And why do it like this? Why not… send an email or something. It’s like they’re trying to send you a message.”

Keith’s blood runs cold.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

Something twigs at the back of his mind and then he’s grabbing Lance’s shirt and hauling him after him as he marches them both out of the room. “Where’s security? We need to look at the tapes.”

“What? Whoa, security? Are you serious? Who would do that?”

“Who do you know that likes to fuck with me like this?”

“Ah, aside from Lotor? Maybe his mom?” Lance shrugs helplessly as he trails hot on Keith’s heels. They climb the stairs and cross the skybridge that links the various buildings of the operations centre and head straight to the central security rooms. By the time they explain what they want to a bemused and slightly annoyed security guard, Keith is starting to doubt himself.

Then he sees a familiar ponytail on the footage and curses.

 

* * *

 

Shiro manages to get through the better part of the day before he picks up the folder and makes his way across to the part of the base to where Matt is ensconced in his lab. He has to sign in to the lab buildings but the security staff are well used to his face so they let him through without much of a glance. He trudges along the hallways, his mind replaying the conversation with Iverson on a loop and when he finally gets to Matt’s corner of the world, he’s relieved to finally have something else to focus on. At least briefly.

“Shiro! Hey,” Matt greets him happily, dumping the tablet he had in his hand onto the desk with a careless clatter.  “Good timing! I was just about send you some updates on- oh.”

Shiro holds up the folder.

“So,” Shiro says without much preamble.  “The garrison brass want to reinstate me.”

The pained expression on Matt’s face catches him by surprise. “Okay,” Shiro says slowly. He cocks his head.  “You don’t seem surprised by this. What do you know?”

Matt’s eyes dart to the side furtively and Shiro immediately goes on alert. Matt clearly knows more than what he’s letting on.  “Matt,” Shiro warns as Matt skips to the door.

Matt hits the keypad and the light above it flashes red, denoting that the door to the lab is now secure and they’re locked in. Shiro raises an eyebrow at the dramatics. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t tell you here,” Matt says in a low voice. He raises his hands to make air-quotes. “It’s classified.”

“Okay?” Shiro scratches the back of his neck and resists the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s fairly cryptic and completely unhelpful.”

“Look, I’ll come around your place tonight but… Let’s just say you’re not the only one they’re trying to get back.”

That has Shiro pausing but it also makes a few things that were floating around in the back of his mind click into place. He gives Matt a very pointed look. “They’re trying to mobilize, aren’t they? That’s what’s spurring on the protests we keep seeing on the news?”

Matt looks like he’s constipated.  “Shiro,” he whines. “You know I can’t answer that.”

Shiro lifts an eyebrow.  He knows he’ll get it out of Matt eventually but wheedling it out of him on base probably wasn’t a good idea.  On the other hand, having to wait until tonight to get some sort of context to his offer would be painful. Assuming Matt actually knew anything useful.

They often had differing opinions on what they considered useful.

“I’ll come over tonight, at seven, okay?” Matt finally says.

Shiro tries not to sound as uneasy as he suddenly feels. “Sure.”

 

* * *

 

Keith finds her waiting for him outside, idly picking her nails and leaning nonchalantly against the southern wall of the garage where the rigs are stored when not in service.

“Took you long enough,” she says. The smirk on her face immediately brings Keith’s anger raging back.

“What the fuck, Ezor?”

“What?” She says it so innocently, widening her eyes even as her lips curl into something sly.  “You did tell me not to _call_ you again. How else was I supposed to get your attention?”

Keith curses under his breath. He should have known. He should have known she’d had been too quiet in the time since they had last spoke. She was never one to respect boundaries. He should have known she’d be up to something in the background.

“Yeah, well now you’ve got it,” he mutters.  She tilts her head.

“I didn’t realise a few old news articles about a certain garrison test pilot would get you so worked up. I wish I had known that sooner. How does it feel to know you married such a fuck up?”

He moves before either of them are even aware it’s happening, shoving her against the concrete wall with enough force that her breath leaves her chest in a slight gasp. He pins her with a clenched fist across her sternum. He might have been concerned that he hurt her except for the way her lips curve into a slow smile and too late he realises he’s played right into her sick little game.

Fuck.  

He tried to tell himself he could let it go. If it had been just about him, he could have bit his tongue and ignored her baiting. But she was trying to mess with Shiro and what they were trying to build together. She was trying to weasel something like doubt into their still fragile and fledgling marriage and it fucking _stank._ Keith didn’t have a lot in his life worth protecting, but his husband and their newly created bond was worth everything he had in him.

Everyone has a line they draw in the sand. And Ezor just crossed his.

“Say that again,” he threatens in a low voice. “I dare you.”

Ezor gives him a feral smile but there’s a tightness around her eyes and a limpness in her stance that makes him pause.

There’s something off. Something not quite right and if Keith hadn’t been so well versed in what his half-sister was capable of, he might have missed it. 

He eases off, stepping back out of her reach and she unfolds from the wall and shakes herself off slowly. 

“Touchy,” she murmurs.

She goes back to her familiar, semi-bored stance and once again picks at her long nails but this time, it’s nothing but show. It only takes a beat before the cloud of his temper parts and the realisation sinks in. In spite of the heatwave that made Keith’s uniform stick to his back with sweat, his sister was covered head to toe. Even a colourful scarf looped around her neck covers everything but her face.

“Ezor,” he says slowly, articulating her name carefully even as his mind whirls through the possibilities. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

It was interesting to have the upper hand with Ezor for once. He watches as almost in slow motion she freezes, the expression on her pretty face changing from something calculatingly smug to shock and then dissolve into fear before she tries to pull the mask back up. It’s too late though, Keith’s already got the confirmation he needs. 

He takes a step back towards her, one hand out placatingly and his brow furrowed. There’s the urge to help that rises up to take over. “I can talk to Kolivan,” he adds. “He still has contacts from his unit in the police force, we can help-“

“No!”

Her vehement denial stops him in his tracks.  “Ezor-“

“No! Fuck you, Keith. I came here to warn you.“

“Warn me about what?” he demands when she trails off.  “About Shiro? Because I swear, Ezor, if you say one more thing-”

“No! Not about him.”

She’s turned guarded, arms folded across her chest and curling in on herself. He doesn’t remember her ever looking to vulnerable. “Then what?” he presses angrily.

“That… that delivery. That I needed your help for. It wasn’t what I thought. It’s probably going to hit soon.”

Her words remind him oddly of their unit’s team meeting earlier in the week, of Trigel swiping through the intel and the holographic map. Maybe the intel wasn’t wrong, maybe the timing was just off.  

“Ezor, what do you know?”

“I can’t tell you. He’ll kill me just for talking to you.”

“Who? Who will?”

“You know who,” she whispers. “He runs this city.”

“Zarkon? You mean Zarkon?”

He lets out a growl of frustration when she doesn't answer. He feels like they’re going around in circles. It’s always one step forward and then flung out a window with her and he was getting pissed. “Then why risk it" he says incredulously. "Why bother?”

“Because I’m sorry, okay! I’m sorry. I… What happened, that night. We fucked up. We didn’t look out for you then so, so we’re trying to now.”

“Ezor-“

He can’t get much more out before she’s backing away from him. 

“Don’t,” she shoves at him when he gets close. “Don’t follow me. I don’t need your help.”

She pins him with a look that makes his stomach drop. “We’re even now.”

 

* * *

 

True to his word, Matt shows up promptly at seven, armed with a pizza and a six pack of ciders. Shiro raises an eyebrow as he lets him in the door. Black takes one look at him and stalks off to the bedroom. Even with the pizza box in one hand, Matt deflates.

“Why does he hate me?” His tone can’t be mistaken for anything but a whine.

“Black hates everyone, it’s not personal.”  Shiro takes the ciders and walks them to the fridge. 

“I bet he doesn’t hate Keith. Does he hate Keith? Please tell me he hates Keith.”

Shiro plucks two of the ciders out and flips them open with a smug grin. “Nope.”

“Really?” Matt’s tone abruptly changes, this time it’s appraising and Shiro can see his mind ticking over as he tracks that titbit of information away for his own reports on the experiment. It was weird sometimes, to realise how invested their friends were in their marriage.  A marriage was supposed to be between two people but somehow, they had a whole host of other’s in theirs.

“He warmed up to him by the end of the weekend. He was even sleeping at our feet this morning. He’s never done that.”

“Huh,” Matt says noncommittally. He takes the drink Shiro offers him and looks around the townhouse. “Speaking of Keith, where is he?”

Shiro shrugs, trying not to let his disappointment show. He knew Keith’s working hours would be sporadic, he’d been called on to do overtime tonight and Shiro didn’t expect him home for at least another hour.  It bothered him more than it should have when he’d stepped through his front door to a near empty apartment.  Keith’s footprint on this space was so small, it was almost as though he didn’t exist.  If it wasn’t for the framed wedding photo on the shelf in the lounge and the strip of black and white photos from their night at the arcade tacked to the fridge door in the kitchen, he might have dreamed it all.

“Still at work. What is it that you wanted to show me that you couldn’t do on the base today?”

Matt’s expression goes sly and he pulls out a compact unit from his back pocket. He flips it open, then pulls out some papers from the messenger bag slung across his chest.

“What’s this?” Shiro asks, picking up the papers and frowning. They look like the images taken from the telescopes, patches of space and constellations but these ones look incomplete, a sprinkling of stars spread through the image with a dark, blacked out space in the middle.  It looks like there had been a smudge on the lens.

“They were taken from Callisto,” Matt says, referencing one of the garrison’s further outposts on one of Jupiter’s moons. It was a research station, reaching out into the cosmos and serving as a base for further expansion. Shiro been desperate to go there once.

“They look incomplete,” Shiro says, and he’s ready to discard them until he realises Matt is looking at him expectantly. He takes a second look at the images, noting the three images were of the same patch of space only the black patch was larger and larger again in each one and-

“Holy shit, there’s something there.”

Matt throws his hands up, eyes wide. It looks like there’s a million things he’s about to blurt out but he can’t decide what so he says nothing at all. He nods his head frantically though. Shiro places the images back onto the bench, feeling vaguely sick in his stomach.  “This is why they’re suddenly so interested?”

“It’s not just you, Shiro. They’re calling back other previously enlisted officers from the last few years. Just think, this could be everything the garrison has been waiting for right here.” Matt’s eyes shine brightly.

“You’re a little more excited about that part than I am,” Shiro says dryly. He’s about to say more when the front door opens and Keith steps through, helmet in hand. Shiro had been so engrossed in the conversation with Matt, he hadn’t even heard the sound of Keith’s bike.

Keith looks up in surprise when he spies Matt.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise- I didn’t know if I should knock?” he looks tired and… slightly unsure. It’s odd that he’s come through the front door and not from the internal stairs from the garage but Shiro doesn’t think too hard on it. He’s just happy to see Keith and relishes the way his heart does a funny little flip flop in his chest at just the sight of him. He’s not in uniform right now, just in black jeans, a black shirt and his short red jacket he uses on the bike. 

Shiro moves to give him a kiss in welcome. “Definitely don’t need to knock, this is your space now too, remember?”

“Don’t mind me,” Matt says, hurriedly shoving papers and various items back into his pack. He grins at them both.  “I’m just heading off.”

“Don’t feel like you have to leave on my account,” Keith protests weakly but Matt is already at the door and slipping outside before Keith’s even had a chance to set his helmet on the counter. 

“Don’t spill the beans, Shiro!” he yells as the door slides shut behind him and then it’s just Shiro and Keith standing in the kitchen, Keith frowning in puzzlement at Matt’s parting words.

“Why are you talking about beans?” Keith asks with enough confusion that it makes Shiro laugh.

“Nothing about beans, he’s just excited by some recent developments,” he says. He watches carefully for any spark of interest from Keith before elaborating but there is none. Keith simply makes a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat and starts peeling off his gloves.

“How was your shift?” Shiro asks quietly. The pallor of Keith’s skin makes his protective instincts flare and he has the sudden urge to pull Keith into his chest and carry him up to bed. There are dark smudges under Keith’s eyes and the light that he was used to seeing in them is faded. “You look exhausted.”

“It… was okay. Must still be on island time,” he says with shrug and he wanders over to the couch to pull off his boots. He’s busy working on the laces when he speaks without looking up. “How was your day?”

It’s on the tip of Shiro’s tongue to blurt it all out. The offer to be reinstated, the chance to go to space. The opportunity to have the garrison grovel to him for once after the shit they’d put him through after the crash. It’s all there, heavy and waiting on the top of his tongue, ready to be spilled but then he takes another look at the vaguely harrowed expression on his husband’s face and inwardly shuts it all down.

He ignores Keith’s question to pad over and crouch down in front of him. Keith looks surprised, then mildly amused when Shiro takes over unlacing his boots. He tries to smile but Shiro can see how wan it is.

“Have you eaten yet?” Shiro says gently and Keith nods.

“Yeah, at the station. I’m… I’m really tired,” he says it softly and so hesitantly that it makes Shiro frown.

Did Keith think Shiro would hold it against him if he went straight upstairs and crawled into bed? For some reason that stung a little. He was disappointed, sure. He’d been waiting all day to see Keith’s face again, he’d missed his presence more than he realised and even the texts he’d sent went mostly unanswered or they were clipped and short in response. Keith had started his shift almost sixteen hours ago, it’s no wonder he was a wreck.

“Yeah, baby. Yeah, I get it. You get some rest, okay.”  Shiro tries to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He doesn’t want to be selfish about this.  He slides off one boot, then the other and Keith lets out a sigh of satisfaction.

“Better?” Shiro asks.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to go up to bed? Matt brought a pizza and some ciders with him but I can throw it all in the fridge for later if you don’t want any.”

“Okay,” Keith says quietly and it strikes Shiro that he’s never seen Keith this subdued before. Sure, some of it was no doubt exhaustion, but there was something else going on too. Like he’s retreated so far inside himself that there’s only a slither of him left there with Shiro.

He’s not quite sure how to handle it. He’s not quite sure what Keith needs from him.

But then Keith reaches for his hand tentatively and his heart squeezes a little in his chest.

“Will you come up with me? Just for a bit?”

It’s almost nervous the way he says it, his face hidden behind the stands of his dark hair that have come loose from the messy tie at his nape. Shiro thinks about the revelation Matt shared, the pizza sitting on the bench and the scattered papers on the counter then shoves it firmly from his mind.  Keith comes first.

“Of course,” he says softly and Keith nods but he doesn’t move. Shiro waits a few beats until he realises Keith is too tired to even stand under his own steam.  God, what kind of shit did he see today? Did his shifts often destroy him like this?

Without talking, Shiro leads Keith upstairs and into their bedroom. It’s become so easy to think of it as _theirs_ even after it was just his for so long. Keith pulls his jacket and then his shirt off as he pads to the bathroom, dragging it over his head tiredly and dropping it to the bathroom floor before starting to work on his jeans.  He peels them down and kicks them off as Shiro trails behind him and waits patiently as he splashes water onto his face and brushes his teeth. He’d left home in uniform this morning so Shiro knew he had showered at the station. When Keith finishes, he wanders back into the bedroom and flicks the bathroom light off behind him. 

Shiro’s sitting on the edge of the bed, the sheets already pulled down and he pats the mattress invitingly. “Come on,” he coaxes and Keith falls in without much grace and is asleep within seconds.

Shiro listens to the quiet sounds of Keith’s breathing as their bedroom door creaks open slightly and a dark shape wanders in. The cat pauses at the foot of the bed only briefly before jumping up and gingerly walking across the sheets to curl up near the small of Keith’s back.

It looks so inviting Shiro is sorely tempted to join them but it’s only just turned eight and he still has a tonne of his own work to get through.

“Take good care of him, okay,” Shiro whispers to Black. 

Black just regards him silently with big golden eyes as Shiro closes the bedroom door behind him.

 

* * *

 

Keith wakes up a few hours later. It takes him a moment to place himself before he realises he’s in bed and apparently hugging Shiro’s pillow to his chest. The lamp is still on and Black is perched on the bedside table, his tail swishing slowly as he watches over Keith like a silent guardian.

“Hey Black,” he murmurs, rolling over enough to lift a hand to give Black a rub behind the ears. The cat purrs and leans into it for a moment, before jumping down onto the carpet and trotting to the door. It was like he was trying to tell Keith something and Keith shoves away the sheets to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and briefly debates throwing on a shirt over his boxers then realising he couldn’t be bothered.  It’s not like Shiro hasn’t see it all before anyway.

When he comes downstairs, the tv is on and softly muted. Shiro is on the couch in sweatpants and a soft cotton shirt that hugs his muscles, engrossed in the tablet he has on his lap and a notepad on the armrest of the couch. He glances up as Keith pads down the steps.

“Hi,” he says softly in greeting. “You okay?”

Keith walks around the back of the couch and then flops heavily into the vacant space beside Shiro, plucking up a pillow and hugging it to his chest. He stares at the tv but doesn’t take anything in.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just needed a little bit to recharge.”

Shiro places the notebook and the tablet onto the coffee table and Keith protests softly.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stop you doing what you were doing-“

“It’s fine. I was just killing time anyway. Do… do you want to talk about it?”

It takes Keith a little while to answer. His brain is still partly replaying his shift, partly on the confrontation with his half-sister but the snatched period of sleep dulls it enough that the emotions aren’t quite as violent. He’s still tired, but he feels better just being by Shiro’s side.

“Not really, I kind of just want to tune out for a while.”

Shiro doesn’t answer but his hand finds its way to Keith’s shoulder and rubs sympathetically. Keith lets his eyes fall closed as he savours the touch then the desperate need for more comes over him.  It surprises them both when a beat later, he’s sliding to the floor and sliding in between Shiro’s thighs. Before he can second guess what he’s doing, he curls his fingers around the waist band of Shiro’s pants and tugs.

“Keith, what are- oh. Oh, god-”

He realises a moment later he probably should have given Shiro a bit of warning before he frees Shiro from the confines of his boxers and takes him into his mouth. He moved so quickly that Shiro is still soft and he’s able to scoop him up wholly and he buries his nose in the dark thatch of hair at Shiro’s base as he swirls his tongue. He can’t get more than a few swipes before Shiro is lengthening and thickening in his mouth and the low groans and gasps Shiro lets out makes Keith feel a fierce blush of satisfaction. He has to back off the thicker and longer Shiro gets, until he’s in all his glory and Keith flicks a glance up to discover Shiro gazing down at him intently.  “Keith, baby, holy-“

Keith slides off with a wet pop, pausing only long enough to yank Shiro’s sweatpants and briefs away to make him more comfortable. Shiro has to raise himself off the couch to get them past his backside, then Keith has to scoot back to manoeuvre them the rest of the way down Shiro’s legs and fling them away so he can settle in securely between Shiro’s thighs. He wastes no time sliding his hands up Shiro’s thighs, over the fine hair of his thighs before curling around his husband’s hips to draw him forward just enough so that Keith can get into a position to have complete control. He dives back down onto Shiro’s length and sucks him deep, using his tongue to swirl over the ridges and texture unique to Shiro, learning them and committing them to memory with every pass. 

Keith loves this. He loves the small sounds Shiro makes, the weight of Shiro’s metallic hand on the back of his head, tangling into his hair. He loves the way Shiro’s human hand brushes over his face, pushing his hair away to expose him fully as he bobs and slides. He loves the lick of salty tang, the taste of him as he leaks his arousal into Keith’s mouth but most of all, he loves the way Shiro whimpers out his name before clasping his head tight and shooting down the back of his throat as he comes, then collapses boneless against the couch.

Keith slides off gently and licks his lips, wiping away some of the saliva that escaped and sits back, watching as Shiro struggles to catch his breath, eyes closed, his head thrown back. He looks decadent with his pants around his ankles and his shirt bunched over his abs where he held it away from Keith’s face and Keith takes a moment to lean his head against Shiro’s knee feeling as sated and as satisfied as if it had been him that had climaxed.

“Jesus, Keith,” Shiro mutters after a moment.  “That was-”

Shiro can’t finish the sentence and that makes Keith smile to himself in satisfaction. He presses his lips to the inside of Shiro’s knee in a kiss. Being here with Shiro, having Shiro’s taste on his tongue and listening to the quiet murmur of his voice is already so soothing to Keith. And it’s so nice to come home to.

Keith’s thoughts don’t get a chance to wander further before Shiro is bending down to pull him up and he ends up pressed against Shiro’s chest. Shiro plants a kiss to his temple then his voice is in his ear.

“Did you- Can I-?”

“No,” Keith answers softly. “That was enough for me. I needed that.”

Shiro doesn’t answer except to hold him a little closer before Keith shoves him back enough to help him pull up his sweatpants and briefs then when he’s dressed again, he climbs into Shiro’s lap. He’s half hard but strangely he has no interest in indulging it. Right now, he just wants Shiro’s arms around him and Shiro obliges by cradling him and he rests his face against Shiro’s neck.

They sit like that for a few long moments, Shiro dragging a heavy hand up and down Keith’s back.  With each swipe, the tension seems to ease out of him and he melts against Shiro’s chest.

“Was it a bad?” Shiro asks quietly and eventually it makes Keith raise his head and slide just to the side of Shiro on the couch so they can look at each other as they talk.

“It wasn’t all bad,” he answers tiredly. He feels bad for not wanting to talk about it when Shiro is so obviously showing an interest.  And he’s still trying to make sense of the talk with Ezor. None of it made sense. “Just… long.”

Shiro is silent for a moment and Keith gets the sense he’s considering his words. A selfish part of Keith just wants Shiro to draw him against his chest again and unmute the tv so they don’t have to have a conversation. He’s still so tired, he doesn’t want to talk, but he desperately wants to be close to Shiro and soak up the peace that comes with being with him.

“It's good to have you back home,” Shiro says.

Keith smiles. “It’s good to be back.”


	43. never forget this moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We now return to regular self-indulgent titwaffle  
> i have no explanation ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“You know anything she says is just a load of crap, right?” Lance says casually the next morning.

They’re seated around the table in their rec room, some of them winding down from the night shift, the others trying to boot up. Lance plucks a sugar packet from the table and rips it open, dumping the fine white crystals into his mug.  It’s the third packet he’s put in there and Keith looks at him with a faint curl of distaste on his lip.

“There’s not enough coffee with your sugar,” Keith says.

Lance slides him an annoyed glance.  “Hey, enough comments from the peanut gallery.”

“Lance does have a point though,” Allura cuts in smoothly.

She’s cradling a mug of a fruity tisane and the sweet smell wafting across the table to him makes Keith’s nose itch. He had wanted to just savour his fourth coffee in peace but he’d made the mistake of retelling the strange confrontation with his half-sister to Lance the day before and Lance had been stewing on it all night.  “Your sisters have hardly been reliable with the information they’ve provided in the past.”

“You didn’t see her though,” Keith says quietly.  “She was different. She almost looked scared.”

“Pfft,” Lance scoffs and takes a sip of his drink before scrunching his nose and reaching for another packet of sugar. How could anyone stand that much sugar this early in the morning? Keith idly considers pinning his hand to the table in an effort to save himself from an even more hyperactive partner.

As though reading his thoughts, Lance narrows his eyes at Keith and deliberately picks up two packets, daring Keith to challenge him about it. 

“You’re gonna end up on a sugar high,” Keith informs him.

“You’re already on a caffeine high, I’m just trying to keep up.”

“Idiot.”

“Moron.”

“I hate you,” Keith says with a laugh.

“I hate you more,” Lance grins back at him then promptly throws one of the packets at Keith’s head.

“Oh my god, Allura. How do you put up with this?” Nyma complains from her seat nearby. “Why don’t they just both marry each other and be done with it?”

Allura chuckles softly as Lance turns to Keith with wide eyes. “Ew, gross.”

Keith mimes vomiting over the edge of the table which earns him a thump in the arm. “Hey, you’d be _lucky_ if you married me,” Lance retorts, waving a finger at him and Keith mimes vomiting a little more.

“Allura, it’s not too late to back out,” Nyma jokes. She gives Allura an exaggerated wink and Lance waggles a finger at her.

“Hey! Enough of that.”

Keith snickers into his coffee as Lance starts to bicker with Nyma but inwardly he’s breathing a sigh of relief that Lance has seemingly moved on from the subject of Ezor and her little bombshell. Allura catches his eye a moment later and he has to resist the urge to squirm. Lance might have the attention span of a goldfish, easily distracted in most cases but Allura was too sharp and too considering to let it go so easily.

Unlike Lance though, when it came to this, Allura and Keith understand each other on a level that was too deep to put into words.

“Have you told Shiro?” Allura asks him quietly from behind the rim of her cup. Keith slides a glance over at Lance, checking to see if he’s still occupied before he answers. He is, and Keith gives a slight shake of his head.

“No,” he answers simply. “I don’t want him caught up in this crap.”

Allura nods once, and Keith is strangely comforted by the understanding in her gaze. Allura gets it. Allura understands wanting to keep some cards close to your chest to protect the ones you care about.

He’s not lying, not really. He just doesn’t want Shiro caught up in the petty drama of his family, not when it’s still so new between the two of them, not when they’re only just trying to find their way around each other. It’s only been two weeks, he needs their foundation to be a bit more solid before he lets Ezor and her bullshit in to trash everything that’s good in his life.

And it is good. It’s the best he’s ever had.

He tries to focus on the rest of his drink but his phone starts to trill from his pants pocket and he pulls it out, hitting answer before looking too closely at screen.

“Mr Shirogane?” a faintly feminine voice on the other end asks. 

“Uh. No. I’m Keith, his… his husband. Who’s this?”

“Oh, yes. I see that now. Mr Shirogane updated the contact details just recently. Ah, we’re calling because there’s been an alert activated on your place of residence. The silent alarm was triggered a few moments ago and although we have someone enroute to assist, we recommend that either yourself or Mr Shirogane be home also.”

There’s no denying the unease that sits at the back of his spine at the thought of the silent alarm being triggered at the townhouse.  At Shiro’s townhouse. 

An echo of Ezor’s words slide though his mind.

No, no that was too out there to think about. Ezor had no idea where Shiro lived, and breaking into the townhouse? What would that achieve? His thoughts turn to Black and he hopes the cat had the foresight to hide somewhere safe if there really had been an intruder and just the thought of that makes him anxious enough that he needs to get home as soon as possible.

Keith glances up as the caller continues to talk to find Lance watching him curiously. He skips his gaze to the digital readout on the wall and realises he’s only halfway through his shift. They were overstaffed again, an occurrence that was supposed to be rare as hen’s teeth but seemed to be more prevalent this week so he’s confident Trigel won’t object to letting him sign off a little earlier. He was fairly sure Lance wouldn’t complain either.

 “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you, I’ll have our crew be ready to meet you.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro is thanking the security company crew at their front door just as he hears what sounds like Keith’s bike down the street. He started listening out for it days ago, listening for the distinctive pattern that is Keith blipping down the revs as he approaches their townhouse, allowing just enough time for the garage door to sense his approach and open its maw for Keith to coast right inside.

It opens now and it’s an effort to tune back in to what the crew is telling him.

A false alarm, it seems. Just a glitch.

“So, nothing to worry about but if it happens again, we’ll send a new crew out.”

“Did your offices call my husband about this too?” Shiro asks curiously.

The leader of the crew checks his datapad and nods. “Yes, as per standard protocols. Both of you were called and advised of the alert.”

“I see.”

Shiro cringes inwardly. He probably should have realised that when he’d updated the details earlier in the week. And he probably should have called Keith to let him know he was already on his way home. It would make sense that Keith would have come home, technically his base was closer than the garrison.

On the other hand-

Keith slips into the kitchen from the internal stairs, his dark hair slightly mussed from his bike helmet and his jacket half open over the top of his uniform. His eyes are intense, darting around the townhouse as though looking for anything out of place and Shiro’s heart catches against his rib as the affection rolls over him.  He nods at Keith’s direction in greeting and waves a hand to signal everything is all right even as he starts to shuffle the crew out the door.

“If you have any other concerns, please feel free to call us, Mr Shirogane.”

“Thank you, I will.”

The front door clicks shut and when he turns around, Keith is out of his jacket.

“Hey,” Keith says, slightly breathless. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Shiro answers, moving into the kitchen and leaning back against the counter. Keith shucks his riding gear over the edge of the couch. The fact he’s not putting it away makes Shiro wonder if he’s not planning on staying. “They think it was just some weird glitch. No signs of any damage or forced entry, nothing missing. Everything seems fine. Even Black was still asleep in his usual spot.”

“Bet he didn’t appreciate the security crew stomping around,” Keith chuckles as he moves to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of chilled water. He tosses one to Shiro too.

“No, he didn’t. Sorry, I didn’t realise they called you as well. Both of us didn’t need to be here.”

Keith shrugs. “We were overstaffed anyway. I think Trigel was happy to clock us off early and get us out from under her hair.”

“So, you don’t have to go back in? At all?”

“Nope. Well, not unless I get called in later tonight but for now I’m off the clock,” Keith says as he takes a swing from his drink. “What about you?”

Shiro can’t stop the slow smile from spreading across his face. “No,” he says slowly. “I’m done for the day.”

He sees the exact moment when the realisation hits Keith. His hands go still and he slides Shiro a look that suddenly holds a lot of promise.

“Really?” he drawls. “Huh.”

Shiro places his bottle on the counter and steps closer. He’s close enough he can see the fine stitching on the patches on Keith’s uniform, close enough to catch the subtlest scent of his aftershave and a lingering trace of coffee. Things that blend together to be uniquely Keith. He catches the twitch of Keith’s lips as he tries to keep a smirk from forming.

“So, we’ve both scored an early mark from work, huh?” Shiro asks casually.

“Seems like it.”

“Almost a whole day.”

“Yep.”

“Here,” Shiro say huskily. He’s trying not to give into the smirk on his own lips at Keith’s feigned nonchalance. “Alone.”

“Well,” Keith hedges. The water bottle in his hands ends up forgotten on the counter and his head tilts slightly in Shiro’s direction. Shiro can’t see the smile, but he can hear it in his husband’s voice.  “Black’s around here somewhere so, _technically-“_

Shiro chuckles then, abandoning all pretence and reaching out to tug Keith into his arms. It feels good to slide them around Keith, to feel the way his husband curls into him without any hesitation and it surprises Shiro how much he needed that this today. After the proposition from Iverson, the visit from Matt and the faded spark in Keith’s eyes last night, he really just wanted to absorb Keith into him and reassure himself that everything was okay.

That _they_ were okay.

Keith loops his arms around Shiro’s neck and Shiro knows their dance well enough that he lets Keith guide him down to allow the press of Keith’s lips against his own. He wants to sigh into it, the tension he hadn’t been aware he had been carrying after a night tossing and turning over the garrison’s offer melts away and the hands encircling Keith’s waist tighten their grip over the material of Keith’s uniform.

“I missed you,” he says and small, insecure part of him warns him that it’s too sappy a thing to say but he doesn’t care because it’s simply the truth. He did miss Keith. He didn’t like waking up alone in their bed after knowing what it felt like to wake up beside him. Maybe that made him a romantic, maybe it made him weak, but it only proved to him how much his husband was burrowing into his heart.

And Iverson wanted him to him to choose? How could he bear to be apart from Keith any longer than he had to be. But how could he ignore the chance to get back all the things he’d thought he’d lost too.

“I missed you too,” Keith answers. He ducks his head, pressing his forehead against Shiro’s shoulder.  Shiro is glad he changed out of his uniform as soon as he got the all clear from the security team. In nothing but a simple white shirt, there wasn’t much between his skin and his husband’s heat.

“I’m so glad that alarm glitched,” Shiro says and Keith laughs.

“Did Matt booby-trap it when he was here last night?” Keith comments and Shiro has to blink when he considers the possibility before shaking his head to discard it.

“Who knows, but whether he did or not, I’m not letting you go.”

Something about that statement seems to please Keith because the next thing Shiro knows, Keith is kissing him again, greedy hands trying to keep pace with greedy lips and Shiro staggers back a step until he connects with the kitchen counter under his husband’s very welcomed and passionate assault.

It wouldn’t be the first time they’d ended up half naked on the kitchen floor he thinks when Keith’s hands start tugging on his jeans.  It’s definitely not going to be the last.

Their hands scramble at each other, untucking uniforms and pulling up shirts, peeling away the layers between them. Keith’s hands slide down over Shiro’s backside and a heavy heat starts to pool at the base of his spine. It feels like it’s been so long since he’s had Keith inside him even though it hasn’t been long at all and he’s busy kissing into Keith’s mouth so earnestly as he tries to find a way to get his wants across without breaking their kiss. Because their kiss- _God,_ could Keith kiss.

In the end, it’s Keith that pulls away, only long enough to heave in a huge lungful of air, his eyes dazed and full of the wild fire Shiro misses seeing when they’re making love in the dark. Keith’s lips are swollen pink and sweet and Shiro tugs him down to the floor, crashing their mouths together once again.

“Fuck,” Keith protests.  “The floor is cold.”

“I’ll warm you up,” Shiro nuzzles into the warm patch of skin under Keith’s ear. He feels the vibration of Keith’s laugh a second before Keith shoves at him and rolls them over until Shiro is on his back.  He can’t help the hiss when his bare back makes contact with the cool tiles and Keith climbs over him.

“I’ll warm you up,” Keith mocks back to him and whatever answer Shiro was working on gets swallowed up in drag of Keith’s tongue.

“Keith,” he groans it out and his hands grope for Keith’s hips, intending to capture his husband so he can finally assuage his arousal by grinding up into him. He’s in the perfect position, if he would just-

“No, baby come back,” Shiro whines, almost pathetically when Keith remains just out of his reach. He opens his eyes to find Keith sitting up and working frantically on the laces of his boot, his uniform pants still on one leg and he blinks when he realises one boot has already been thrown away. “How-?”

Keith’s answer is just to launch himself at him again and Shiro happily accepts the wall of warmth that crashes into him and pushes him back onto the floor. This time he does manage to capture Keith’s hips and there’s a slow drag of contact between them that has Shiro almost dizzy.

Keith is breathing heavily, his fingers threading his fingers through the buzz at the back of Shiro’s head, cradling his skull gently even as he’s kissing down on him, nipping along his jaw before sliding back and recapturing Shiro’s mouth.

Keith is right where Shiro wants him forever…  when suddenly he’s not.

It takes a moment for the sound to register in Shiro’s lust filled mind but Keith reacts instantly. He rolls off, sliding to the side with his back against the cabinet doors.

“Who the hell is that?” Keith hisses under his breath.  Shiro blinks at the blade in Keith’s hand.

Keith starts inching towards the edge of the cabinets when the haze clears and it suddenly falls into place.

“Uh, what day is it?” Shiro whispers.

“Thursday,” Keith frowns at him. The expression on his face indicates he’s not sure about Shiro’s thought process right now.

“Oh. That’s the housekeeping service then.”

“The what? Shiro,” Keith groans. “Are you kidding me?”

“Mr. Shirogane?” a soft voice calls out. “Is… is that you?”

“Yes, Plaxum,” Shiro quickly pulls his shirt back over his head and stands up. He keeps the kitchen counter between himself and the new arrival though. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly, knowing that his face is probably flushed with embarrassment. “Ah, I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“Oh,” she looks hesitant. “It’s Thursday, we always come on Thursday.”

“Yes. I remember now. I’m sorry, Plaxum, it’s just-“

Plaxum blinks then her eyes scoot sideways to the mop of dark hair peaking over the top of the counter. “Oh! Of, of course. Your wedding. Your husband- ah, oh my goodness, I’m sorry I should have-“

“No, no, Plaxum, it’s not- ah. Keith, stand up,” Shiro finally nudges Keith with his foot. He’s still half undressed on the kitchen floor but at Shiro’s request, his eyes narrow and he glares. 

“I don’t have any pants on,” he hisses.  His cheeks are stained bright pink.

“Neither do I,” Shiro hisses back. “This is weird enough. And put down the knife!”

Shiro tries to smile weakly at Plaxum as Keith groans then scrambles around for his shirt but he doesn’t actually put it on.  Keith climbs to his feet and hovers at Shiro’s back as he raises a half-hearted wave at Plaxum. “Uh, hi.”

Plaxum is clearly trying to hold back her amusement but without letting too much escape, she smiles at Keith. “Hello, it’s nice to meet you, Mr Shirogane.”

“Keith,” he says, giving Shiro a sideways glance that Shiro can’t read.  “You can call me Keith.”

“Keith,” she smiles.  “How about I give you a few moments alone to dress before I get started?”

 

* * *

 

It was a quick, awkward dash up the stairs while Plaxumn fussed about in the laundry room and when they made it into the bedroom, half laughing and half mortified, Black lifts his head and gives them a look disdainful enough that Keith feels mildly chastised.

“Don’t look at us like that,” Shiro tells him.  “We forgot it was laundry day.”

“We? _You_ forgot,” Keith retorts as he pulls on a pair of black jeans.

“Hey, how many times do I have to tell you-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Keith waves him off and Shiro laughs.

“You’ll figure it out eventually,” Shiro says over his shoulder as he disappears into the walk-in robe. When he comes back out, Keith’s breath catches at the sight of his husband’s bare chest, perfectly chiselled and muscles rippling as he bends to pull on his own jeans.

Keith doesn’t think he will ever get sick of that vision and he has to shift uncomfortably on his feet, his body still amped up from their make out on the kitchen floor. He’s not sure but he suspects Shiro might have let him fuck him right there and then and he makes a mental note to re-intact it on a day they won’t be interrupted.

But his salacious, wandering thoughts are abruptly squashed when he spies a flash of silver on a chain against Shiro’s chest and he finds himself reaching for it without thinking.

Of all the things that remind him of the garrison, it’s the sight of Shiro wearing his dog tags that unsettles Keith the most. He hadn’t noticed them earlier, his hands and his mouth too occupied with other things and he doesn’t like how they look or what they represent.

They’re not a casual piece of jewellery like the plaited leather bands around their wrists from their honeymoon, or the meaningful black titanium of their wedding bands. The tags are harsher in their symbolism, a very vivid reminder that even though Shiro is wearing the matching band to Keith’s ring, he’s still not entirely Keith’s. 

Keith discovers he doesn’t care for it. Not one bit.

He stares at the tags, rubbing them between his fingers, feeling the imprint of Shiro’s full name in the embossed ridges and bumps in the metal. They’re warm from laying against Shiro’s skin.  He has a strange urge to tug them and fling them away but Keith lets them go instead.

“I got called Mr Shirogane twice today,” Keith says in an effort to shift his thoughts.

He almost wipes a hand on his jeans, as though trying to wipe away some imaginary stain from the garrison off his palms. He blinks in surprise when Shiro laughs easily and catches his chin gently, tilting it upwards so that their gazes lock. Shiro’s gunmetal grey eyes are warm and his lips are curved upwards in a soft smile.

“You could be, if you wanted to.”

Keith is faintly distracted by mentally cataloguing the shades of silver in Shiro’s gaze.  “What?”

“You could change your name,” Shiro says softly. His thumb starts to circle a patch on Keith’s jaw and a shiver rolls over Keith’s leaner frame at the touch.

“Change my name?” he echoes and for a brief moment he lets himself fall into the idea. Of sharing more than just an address with Shiro, more than just some paperwork and accounts.  There was power in a name. It could ground you, link you. Help you be found.

And he had been found, in a way. Just not by the person he had waited all his life to find him.

There’s a part of him that feels selfish about this but he still can’t bring himself to give it up. He knew as surely as he knew the sun would set and rise again that what he and Shiro shared was something powerful, something precious and timeless and incredibly rare. He wants to honour it, he wants to link and thread everything they are together but in this… in this he struggles.

“I… I can’t,” he says and it takes a handful of heartbeats for Shiro to absorb his refusal. There’s a flash of something that looks like disappointment, maybe even hurt before Shiro blinks and forces a smile. He nods once and his hand drops away from Keith’s face and Keith feels the absence keenly, the cold space where Shiro’s warmth had been. 

Keith didn’t expect the longing, _the want,_ to be so sharp. He hates himself for it.

“Okay,” Shiro says it casually and with a shrug.  “It’s okay.”

But something about the way Shiro steers the subject away makes Keith think that maybe it’s not.

 

* * *

 

It’s later when Keith wanders out of their walk-in robe with a large box in his hands and places it on the bed beside Shiro.

“What’s this?” he asks, eying the box curiously.

“I got you something,” Keith says.  “I was going to wait until the weekend but since we both have free time today- well, go on, open it.”

Shiro slides a finger under the flap and lifts the lid of the box open, pulling out the white tissue paper. Keith is grinning at him as he waits for Shiro to unearth what’s inside and Shiro almost has to pause to admire how gorgeous his husband looks.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, you know. It’s not my birthday for another few years,” Shiro jokes. It’s a poor attempt to calm the strange flutter of his heart. It means more than he realised to know that Keith had got him yet another gift.

Keith snorts and rolls his eyes. “Just open it already. I need to know if it fits.”

With the tissue paper finally pulled away, Shiro glances inside the box then exhales softly at the sight. It’s a helmet, dark glossy black with deep purple swirls that look like distant galaxies but it’s the bright golden emblem of a roaring lion that makes him catch his breath. He pulls it out gingerly and sets it on his lap to inspect closer.

“Keith,” he shakes his head, almost speechless.  “This is amazing.”

“I hope it fits. I thought… I thought that maybe we could escape to the mountains for a ride.”

“Together on your flaming death trap? Lance would never approve,” Shiro teases.

“Nope, but what he doesn’t know won’t kill him,” Keith smirks back. Then his expression turns a little wary. The way his nose scrunches and his brows meet heavy in the middle of his forehead is starting to become one of Shiro’s favourite expressions on him.

“So, do you like it?” Keith prompts. His cheeks almost look pink.

“Keith, I love it.”

“Try it on.”

Shiro slides it over his head, jiggling it slightly to get it to sit in place. It’s different to the flight helmets he was used to with more forgiving padding on the inside and it’s surprisingly soft and comfortable. He flips up the visor so he can see Keith’s face.

“Fits great. I love the design.”

Keith’s face splits into another wide grin and he looks immensely pleased. “I had to take Lance with me when I went to get it. He suggested one with the skull and the flaming fireball with blood splatter designs but I got this one made for you instead.”

Shiro laughs, trying to picture that. “I’m glad you didn’t listen to him.”

“When do I ever listen to Lance?” Keith grins. He helps Shiro slide the helmet off before shoving the box back towards him. “There’s more.”

And there is. Shiro pulls it out, a sleek and stylish bike jacket to add extra protection while on the bike and he slips it on over the top of his white, snugly fitted t-shirt.

“Wow, okay,” Keith mutters. “That looks even better than it did in my imagination.”

Shiro grins. “Yeah?” he says and pretends to be unconvinced. He does a half turn, peering over his shoulder. “I’m not sure, does it make my ass look big?”

“Are you fishing for a compliment, Takashi?”

“Me? Never. Is it working?”

Keith shakes his head but there’s a smile in his eyes that makes Shiro’s breath catch. Shiro holds out a hand and waits until Keith slides their palms together and entwines their fingers. It only takes a light tug for Keith to come into his orbit and Shiro wraps himself tightly around his husband and threads a hand through the hair at the back of his neck.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, trying to inject as much gratitude into his words as he can. He would have been lying through his teeth if Keith’s hesitation earlier didn’t sting and there were moments that had him wondering in a tiny part of his mind how committed Keith really was. But Keith had been thinking of him, that he’d done this for him, and that knowledge settled warmly right into his bones.

They duck into the garage with a quick wave in Plaxum’s direction as they dash past and then Keith is pulling on his gloves and straddling the bike, helmet on and visor up.

“You ready?” he asks and Shiro grins as he pulls on his helmet and slides on behind Keith. It takes them a second to find their balance, but he settles in easily and slides his arms around Keith’s waist and without even a chance to catch his breath, the bike roars to life and Keith guides it onto the street as the garage seals behind them.

They streak through the city highways with the rumble and vibration of the bike under him, Keith warm and solid in front of him. It’s a nice advantage that he’s taller, he’s able to see over Keith’s head a little as they ride and as the city streets dwindle into the quieter roads that lead into the mountains, Shiro finds himself relaxing and the worries of earlier fade into the distance behind them.

It’s unmistakable when they hit the mountain road. The canopy of the trees lean over them, meshing their branches together enough to block out a large chunk of sunlight and turning everything a greyish-blue through the visor of their helmets. The road ahead becomes steeper and windier and Shiro can feel Keith winding down the gears to give them extra power as the bike labours with his extra weight.

Shiro can feel the way Keith guides them around the mountain, each bend and hairpin turn has them leaning low to the road, enough that it leaves Shiro slightly breathless with each pass. Once they reach the summit, Keith pulls the bike into a narrow side road that feels rough and secluded and after a short pass, the foliage opens up to a vista of a distant city, sparkling lakes and trees lining the slope of the valley.

“Wow, this is gorgeous,” Shiro says as the bike’s engine rumbles into silence and they pull off their helmets. In the quiet of the summit, he can hear birds softly carolling their songs and the rustle of the leaves as the wind caresses the trees.

“Not quite like seeing it from the air,” Keith comments. He pulls off his jacket and lays it across the seat of the bike along with his helmet. Shiro does the same.

“No, but this is... this is nice.”

“Come on,” Keith beckons him to follow and Keith leads them down a slim path to an even more secluded area. There’s no one around but them so they veer off the path and onto a patch of soft green grass, sitting down not far from where the mountain drops away into the valley below.

“I always come for a ride up here after rough shifts,” Keith tells him as he lowers himself down. Keith leans backwards on his elbows, his legs crossed at the ankles and he tips his face towards the sun.  It’s a bright day and his eyes drift shut for a long moment against the glare of the sunlight. “It’s quiet and calm and no one can bother me when I’m riding.”

Shiro settles down beside him, inhaling a deep lungful of the mountain air. He can smell the scents of the trees and it’s a welcome change from the smog of the city or the oily air of the tarmac.

“This spot is special to you, huh?”

Keith’s eyes open and he squints. His hair glimmers in the sunlight. “Yeah. Yeah I guess it is.”

“And you brought me,” Shiro answers. It’s half a question. He’s half curious that Keith would share this with him, half grateful and touched that he did.

“Yeah, I guess I did,” Keith says in amusement then, as though the significance has just occurred to him.  He smiles and sits up and Shiro laughs when Keith reaches out to grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him in for a kiss.

It’s a warm kiss, Shiro can feel Keith smiling behind it.

“I’m glad,” Shiro says seriously when Keith finally lets him go. “Because this means a lot.”

“You mean a lot,” Keith answers simply then he turns to stare out over the valley and his shoulders go loose as he sighs contentedly. He looks relaxed and Shiro can see Keith’s batteries charging up, right there under the sun’s warmth as they sit there shoulder to shoulder on the grass at the summit overlooking the valley. He can see why Keith likes it up here so much.  His own tensions leak away, shedding off him with every pass of a breeze.

“Can I ask you something?” Shiro says after a long moment. Keith’s gaze stays trained on the far horizon.

“Sure.”

“Do you remember laser tag?” Shiro asks quietly.  It’s so peaceful here he doesn’t need to raise his voice.  Keith shifts slightly beside him.

“Are you gunning for a rematch?” Keith raises an eyebrow and grins. “Worried about your title?” he teases.

Shiro tries to chuckle but suddenly his heart is hammering a little too wildly in his chest and his words threaten to catch at the back of his throat.

“Was it… was it just trash talk?”

Keith goes still and his breathing turns shallow. It takes him a long moment to answer and Shiro watches carefully how the tension settles into Keith’s frame, turning him rigid even as he tries to stay nonchalant. 

“There was a lot of trash talk from everyone that night,” Keith answers.  “Which part?”

Shiro experiences a brief moment of hesitation. A brief moment where he’s wondering if maybe he misheard. Maybe he misunderstood and that it wasn’t Keith saying he loved him at all.

Or maybe they weren’t really at that point yet, where they could honestly and openly tell each other how they feel.

Something about that makes Shiro frown.

“I think you know which part I’m talking about,” he says eventually and he promises himself that if Keith seems skittish or uncomfortable or just plain doesn’t know what Shiro is talking about, he’ll drop the subject instantly and not mention it again.

But if he doesn’t…

Keith takes so long to answer, Shiro’s heart falls and he resolves to let it go. _And it’s okay,_ he tells himself. _They have plenty of time. No need to rush this. It’s okay-_

“It wasn’t trash talk,” Keith says, interrupting his inner downward spiral. He’d been falling so fast he has to inhale sharply to gather his wits.  Beside him, Keith shifts, drawing his knees into his chest defensively. “I wouldn’t joke about that. But I… I don’t expect you to say it back or-“ Keith shakes his head as his voice trails off.

“Keith.”

Shiro’s voice does crack now. It cracks under all the held back, cautious hope he’d been nursing inside him. Cracks because he _doesn’t_ have to hold it back any more. Keith stares straight ahead, over the beautiful vista of their city, his jaw clenched tight. It’s abruptly startling to realise that Keith looks like he expects to get rejected.

“Keith,” he tries again, and he turns to tug gently on Keith’s arm. He wants to be looking Keith in the eyes, the view in front of them forgotten and discarded. Shiro wants to be able to read the emotion in his husband’s gaze. “Baby, look at me.”

There is resistance to his tug but Shiro is insistent. There’s an urgency to it but Keith turns slowly, eyes downcast. Keith’s voice is rough and it falters. “I know it’s only been a few weeks-“

Shiro reaches out with his metal hand to lay it against the side of his husband’s face. It makes Keith’s eyes flick up and when their eyes meet, they lock into place and Shiro knows Keith won’t be able to look away now. He won’t be able to hide from this, even as Shiro senses the coiled tension in his frame that tells him Keith is struggling with his need to run.

But he doesn’t. Shiro knows he won’t.

Just like on their wedding day, Keith doesn’t bolt. Just like on their honeymoon, Keith stands and faces him and sees it through. And just like now, in their marriage, Keith faces it with a twist of determination on his lip and the way he fights through his fears for what they share together makes Shiro fall so much harder.

He gets to have this, he thinks with no small amount of wonder. He gets to share his life with this man, this force of nature that belongs just to him.

His thumb moves over the swell of Keith’s cheek and even through the tech of his hand, Shiro can read the way Keith subtly presses his face into Shiro’s touch. Keith’s gaze is wary and Shiro draws him close until their foreheads touch briefly.  A slight shudder ripples through both of them and then he pulls back.

“Keith,” he says on a throaty whisper with all the love he has in his heart and all the joy that comes with it.

Then, before he can say any more, he lifts his other hand, his human one and lays it on Keith’s shoulder. His wedding band looks almost silver in the sunlight and just the glimpse of it makes his eyes prick. The moment suddenly feels so heavy, the force of the universe crushing down on him so he focuses on Keith’s warmth under his touch to give him strength.

It leads him home. “Keith, I love you.”

It’s like magic the way the rigidity melts away from Keith’s body, the way the fear and the apprehension fades instantly. Keith’s eyes drift closed and he makes a tiny noise that sounds suspiciously like a sob before he curls in sharply against Shiro, laying his forehead against Shiro’s chest even as his hands bunch into the fabric of Shiro’s shirt. Keith’s shoulders shudder and Shiro folds his arms securely around him.

“I do,” Shiro whispers, and this time his voice catches roughly at the swell of emotion that comes rushing out of the space in his chest he’d tried to hold back for so long. His own eyes squeeze shut against the dampness threatening them and his throat is tight. 

“Shiro,” Keith breathes it into his chest but nothing prepares him for the force that hits him when Keith draws back enough to lift his head. The sheer vulnerability he sees there reminds him vividly of the night in the bungalow, their reflections in the mirror looking back at them. It’s not an expression that sits right on Keith’s face and Keith’s jaw works silently for a beat before he swallows roughly and Shiro senses the way he steels himself. “I love you too. You know I do.”

The weight that had been pressing down on him immediately dissipates. The last dredges of his fears, of his nerves, of his doubts- they all disappear on a puff of breath and the brush of Keith’s lips.  There’s a lightness left behind instead, leaving his heart so buoyant in his chest he doesn’t think Earth’s gravity could hold him.  And the emotion- the joy, the relief, the sheer conviction that they have got this right, that he is finally with the one person in the galaxy he needed to be with. The one he knew would fight armies and cross the universe for him.

This was their happy ending now. This was their life together really starting to take shape.

He cups Keith’s jaw and kisses him, a soft, slow slide of their mouths together. It shouldn’t feel different, but somehow it does.

When they part, their foreheads rest against each other and Shiro is smiling so hard he might burst. Then he laughs a little.

“I still can’t believe you stealth confessed your feelings in a dark hallyway then shot me though,” he says then.

Keith’s answering chuckle is quiet and his face is flushed but he looks Shiro in the eye with an unerring calm.

“It will be a good story to tell the grandchildren.”

It takes Shiro a second to find his voice at that. The sting behind his eyes is back.  “Tell me again,” he says roughly. 

This time it’s Keith’s hands cupping his face. Keith runs his thumbs over the lines of Shiro’s eyebrows soothingly, brushing away the lock of white that rests against his forehead and easing away the frown that threatens. Keith’s deep violet gaze is focused on his fingers before it drops to meet Shiro’s eyes and when they do, they’re clear and warm and quietly confident.

Keith kisses him. “I love you, Takashi.”

It’s the most beautiful thing Shiro has ever heard.


	44. tell me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I got a few requests for Keith pov soo :))

Keith is flooded with warmth, but it has nothing to do with the sun beaming down on them and everything to do with the man pressed against him. He clutches at Shiro’s shirt and breathes him in, searching out that familiar and beloved heartbeat against his ear. He feels faintly shaky and weak and little bit scared but he’s also never been more empowered.

Shiro loves him.

_Shiro. Loves. Him._

And this quiet revelation on the mountaintop, under the warm sun and the caressing breeze through the trees is more than he ever dared to hope for. It’s been hardly any time at all that they’ve had together, not in the grand scope of their lives, and yet they have a lifetime of love between them already.

He draws Shiro close and they fall back easily onto the soft grass. The sun has shifted, scattering the shadows from the tree line towards them and the extra shade turns out to be the slightest touch cooler than in the sunlight. It’s not so bright, but Keith finds himself closing his eyes anyway, smiling as his heart beats happily on the inside of his chest.

“I love you,” Shiro says again and Keith can feel the way Shiro’s lips curve into a smile against his shoulder. It’s a simple kiss, pressed into to material of Keith’s shirt and Keith recognises it for what it is- Shiro biting back another swell of emotion. 

He knows, because he feels the same way.

His breath hitches.

“I will never get sick of hearing that,” Keith tells him.

He runs the fingers of one hand through the short buzz of Shiro’s hair where the sun turns it into the colour of burnt sienna. The shock of white on his forehead almost looks silver. Shiro lifts his head to seek out Keith’s lips and Keith meets him halfway, his entire soul sighing happily as something in the back of his mind chants _home, home, home._

“Not even when we’re old and grey or even when I sing in the shower?” Shiro asks when they draw apart. Their foreheads rest against each other, eyes half closed but Keith can hear the smile in Shiro’s voice.

“Not even then,” Keith sighs.

“What about when I sing in the car? We have that road trip to your uncle’s place coming up.”

“In the car?” Keith echoes. “And it’s hardly a road trip. It’s like… an hour in peak hour traffic.”

“Enough time for careoke.”

“Car-what?”

“Careoke, Keith. It’s a thing,” Shiro informs him smugly.

“Really? Well, I hope the acoustics are better in the car, you need all the help you can get-”

Shiro laughs quietly into Keith’s shirt. “So rude,” he mutters, even as he plants a quick kiss against Keith’s neck. “My singing is amazing. Like a siren’s call-“

“A siren is right. You know what we say when we flip the sirens on? _‘Here comes the noise_ ’-”

Keith cracks up then tries to roll away when Shiro bares his teeth against his skin playfully. Shiro follows and they end up half wrestling, half sliding together in a messy tangle of heavy limbs and hungry mouths. Keith can’t resist rocking his hips, knowing exactly the effect it will have on his husband and he finds himself suddenly pinned to the grass by his wrists. Shiro looms above him, eclipsing the sun. His silver streaked gaze is all encompassing and Keith is lost.

“What?” Keith whispers after a moment. He can’t quite read the expression on Shiro’s face, the playfulness abruptly shifting into a thing of intensity. Shiro’s brows bunch, just slightly, and Keith frowns. “What is it?”

Shiro looks like he’s about to say something but then he pauses and gives a slight shake of his head. When their gazes meet again, his smile is back.

“I feel like I need to pinch myself,” Shiro says.  “To make sure I’m not dreaming.”

“You’re not,” Keith replies, but he understands what Shiro means. He tugs on one wrist and Shiro releases it so he can lift his hand to Shiro’s face, once against tracing his fingertips through Shiro’s hair and then tracing the bold line of his jaw. He likes touching Shiro like this. “Unless I am too.”

“Two dreamers,” Shiro half laughs then his voice lowers until it’s nothing but a skim of breath. “Two soulmates. I believe it now.”

“I love you,” Keith says, his throat thick. He can’t seem to stop saying it now that the dam has broken.

He curls his arm around the back of Shiro’s neck and draws him down. The grass is going to leave stains on their clothes but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care much about anything outside this moment and weight of Shiro holding him down and their mouths sliding leisurely together.

The intensity fades and a warm, sweet softness is left in its wake. Keith loses himself in it until his phone buzzes in his pocket and he remembers he’s on call that night.

He groans as Shiro pulls away, rolling to the side to give Keith the space he needs to fish it out of his jeans. They both knew this call might come, Keith just really wished it hadn’t.

“Shit, I do have to go in tonight,” he gives Shiro a disappointed sigh when he hangs up. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Shiro says ruefully but he places a wide hand on Keith’s thigh in sympathy. Keith tries not to think about how good that hand feels on his skin when he’s naked. “You know, I really wish we had a longer honeymoon.”

“That feels like a lifetime ago now.”

“We should plan something else. Some time alone together. A date night, or… another honeymoon. A real one this time.”

“I’d like that,” Keith smiles a little at the thought and it helps to take away the sting of knowing he wouldn’t be spending the night in their bed.  “Where would we go?”

Shiro hums. He leans back and glances around before pinning his gaze onto the horizon and the views below.

“You suggested somewhere cold once. I think I like the idea of that.”

“Not cold enough that it’s going to mess with your arm though,” Keith cuts in. 

“No. Just somewhere cold with nice views and a fireplace.” Shiro turns to him and crowds close once again. His voice lowers to that husky whisper that Keith loves so much. “So I can lay you down in front of it and make love to you.”

“Shiro-“ Keith doesn’t get further than that in answer. He kisses Shiro again, sliding into his lap without thinking.  “Yes,” he breathes.  “If you let me return the favour too,” he adds as an afterthought.

“Without a doubt,” Shiro answers, right before Keith claims his mouth again.

 

* * *

 

Later, when their noisy stomachs remind them that they can’t subsist on love alone and Shiro insists they should celebrate, they untangle themselves long enough to get back onto the bike. Keith steers them into a small tourist village perched higher along the mountain. It’s quaint, filled with tourists dining in lovely little cafes and browsing art galleries and after they eat, Shiro tugs him out onto the street.

“Where are we going?” Keith asks curiously. He doesn’t want to check the time but he’s conscious of the day slipping away from them. They still have to get home and he will need to snatch a few hours sleep if he’s going to be working all night. He’s half dreading his shift, his job suddenly doesn’t have the sway it used to have over him.

“I have an idea about something,” Shiro says, just as he nudges Keith into one of the local galleries.  A bell above the door jingles as they step inside and the space is quiet and still and Keith finds himself immediately at ease.

“I didn’t realise you were into art,” Keith whispers. His eyes slide over the art that lines the walls, a mixture of various mediums but it’s the paintings at the far end that catch his eye.

Shiro throws an arm around his shoulders and tucks him in close. “Well, there weren’t any napkins or ticket stubs at the lookout, and we need something to remember the moment with. If we can’t put anything in our memory box, we should have something else. Where is it by the way?

Keith’s face heats, remembering the way he lovingly placed it on the bedside table at his old apartment. Then left it there.

“At… at my old place,” he murmurs and Shiro raises an eyebrow.

“That confident it was going to work out, huh?” Shiro says dryly. Keith searches his tone for a reprimand but Shiro just seems wry. It was selfish of him, but if their first week together in the real world turned out to be a bust, Keith still wanted the memories of their honeymoon. 

“I’m sorry-“ he goes to say but Shiro cuts him off, cupping his face in his wide palms and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“I get it,” Shiro tells him quietly. They’re the only ones in the gallery but they keep their voices low. Keith turns his face into Shiro’s bionic palm. Shiro’s human hand pushes back his hair. “But maybe you could go get it sometime?”

“I will,” Keith promises him and Shiro nods.

“Okay, so in the meantime, you should pick something out. From here. For home.”

Keith frowns and Shiro offers him a soft smile.  “You should be able to put your touch on the place now too.”

Keith glances around at the artworks.  They’re beautiful and… big.  “And how are we supposed to get it home on the bike?”

Shiro chuckles. “Well, there’s this amazing thing called a delivery service-“

“Ha, ha,” Keith says sarcastically and pokes him. “Which one?”

“No,” Shiro shakes his head. “You choose. I’m going to take myself over there so I don’t influence your decision.”

“Wait, what if I pick out something you hate?”

“You won’t.”

“What if it’s really hideous?” Keith challenges but Shiro beams at him. He’s beautiful enough when he smiles it makes Keith’s breath catch.

“I doubt you will but if you do… well, you’re going to have to look at it every day too, aren’t you?”

Keith laughs, and Shiro drops a light kiss to his temple.  “You go this way, I’ll go the other.”

“You should pick something too,” Keith says, then he smirks. “It can be a compatibility test.”

“Bit late for that,” Shiro laughs. “But okay. For science.”

“For science,” Keith rolls his eyes when Shiro grins at him.

“Honerva would be so proud of you right now, baby-“

“Yeah, okay that’s enough,” Keith waves a hand at him and walks off to the far end of the gallery, leaving Shiro chuckling as he heads to the other.

He takes a good half hour, maybe even more to wander around and gaze at the various pieces. He spies the watercolours of the views created by the local artists and thinks perhaps he should pick one of those but they don’t pull at him. They don’t capture his attention sharply enough, nothing does, until he comes to a vivid star scape of shifting nebulas and shimmering starlight twirled in vague feline shapes.

He loses track of the amount of time he stands there staring at it, fighting back the odd sensation that if he moves even a muscle, he’ll fall into it and be lost in those stars.  The deep purples and vivid reds splashed across the canvas makes something in his mind sing until the shop assistant walks over and he falls out of it with a blink and a thud.

“Do you like it?” she asks with a small smile and he doesn’t hesitate when she coyly asks if he wants to purchase it. 

“Yes. This one.”

He doesn’t even look at the price.

He’s handing over the credit chit to pay when Shiro finds him. “Did you pick something out?”

“Yeah,” he answers then realises belatedly he probably should have checked it with Shiro first.  He goes to say as much but Shiro just draws him close.

“I trust you,” he says. “Ready to go home?”

Keith nods. “Yeah, I’m going to need to get some sleep before I go in. I feel kind of hyped though.”

“Maybe I can help with that?” Shiro raises his eyebrows and they laugh together as they leave the gallery and head back to the bike. The small township is bustling with people out enjoying the stellar weather but as they start to descend down the mountain, Keith can see a dark patch of grey forming on the far horizon. If storms are forecast then it made sense a few extra crews would be called in.  Something about storms always brought out the worst in people.

Shiro’s hands nestle in warmly against his hips as he rides. It had been a strange experience at first to have another figure on the bike with him, let alone someone as large and as solidly built as Shiro and it had taken him a few passes before he had gotten completely used to it, but now he couldn’t imagine coming back up here without him. It felt right, as did everything he did with his husband and once again the thought tries to worm his way into his mind that it shouldn’t be this easy. That this happy, fluffy cloud nine he was riding high on couldn’t sustain itself forever.

He doesn’t like the thought. He doesn’t like the way the faint undercurrent of fear tries to steal itself into every thought about his future with Shiro. Shiro loved him. Shiro accepted him. Shiro was committed to him. Shiro had shown him time and time again how much their marriage meant to him, how much he wanted it to work. And how much he was willing to give.

The fear, as faint and as insidious as it is, still lurks heavily enough that it weighs him down.

And he’s tired of it. 

It’s exhausting being scared all the time and as he steers them down the mountain and back into the streets of their city towards home, he promises himself he’s not going to be scared anymore.


	45. share your silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very mafs!Keith backstory heavy I guess. There was a lot I wanted to cover. Possible trigger warning for illness/cancer/death mentions. Also. Long. Get a cuppa and settle in.  
> (TY to my Giant Pile of Nerds for all your love and encouragement. You know who you are <3)

They make it home with a few hours to spare. A few hours before Keith has to get back onto his bike and head into work and Shiro already feels like he misses him.

It’s been an overwhelming day. An overwhelming few weeks, really. So many emotions have been thrumming through his system in such a short amount of time, it’s a wonder he can distinguish between any of them.

He watches the way Keith moves around their bedroom, getting his uniform prepped and stripping into something comfortable enough to sleep in and he’s torn between a wildly consuming happiness and an ache that makes his muscles tight. 

 _Tell them you’re not going in. Call in sick,_ he wants to say. He wants to plead. He wants to fold Keith up in his arms and lie with him on their bed as the storms roll in and listen to the way their hearts strum and beat in sync as the night wanes on and just bathe in the knowledge that what they’ve created together - the very thing they’d taken such a risk to find - is real.

But he doesn’t, because if he’s honest with himself, Keith’s dedication to his job, to his vocation, is one of the things Shiro loves about him. It doesn’t stop him from wanting to be selfish though.

“I’m really sorry about this,” Keith pauses in the middle of the plush carpet, his brows snapped together apologetically. His shoulders droop almost sheepishly and Shiro blinks in surprise.

“What do you have to be sorry for?”

Keith slides closer to where Shiro is leaning against the door to the balcony. Outside, the rain clouds have arrived and they start to turn everything grey under their drizzle. “I wish I didn’t have to go, after today. What we said.”

Shiro smiles ruefully. “You mean when I told you I love you?”

It’s worth it to see the way Keith’s cheeks flare pink and he huffs lightly. Then he steps closer and Shiro reaches for his hand to draw him close. Just Keith’s hand in his is enough to make his heart pang a little.

“Yeah, that,” Keith answers with a slight smile.

Shiro rests his forehead against Keith’s, just a slight bend of his neck to reach down. Keith entwines their fingers together, his strong, warm human fingers gripping tightly against the tech of Shiro’s bionic arm and squeezes and Shiro feels it in that now familiar way.

“And you love me,” Shiro says.

He expects a playful quip in return but he receives a strange little sound instead. Keith’s shoulders rise and fall, quivering with a shudder that has Shiro drawing back and training his gaze on Keith intently. Keith’s eyes are closed, a faint twist to the side of his mouth that makes it look as though he’s battling with something inside him. Shiro wants to smooth that twist away and he reaches up his thumb just as Keith’s eyes open.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t be scared anymore,” Keith starts and the rough edge to his voice snags on edges of Shiro’s consciousness. “But I- I… I can’t-“

“Keith,” Shiro breathes out his name and pulls Keith in close, encircling Keith’s lean frame with the bulk of his own. “We’re in this together.” _I won’t hurt you._

His gaze skims over the sight of his galaxy garrison tags on the bedside table and a rude little beast at the back of his mind rears up and scratches at him, leaving slashes of guilt in its wake.

 _When are you going to tell him?_ it whispers. _**What** are you going to tell him?_

Shiro closes his eyes and tightens his arms around his husband.

 

* * *

 

“So, explain it to me again,” Shiro says as he drives. “Your uncles, the three of them were… together?”

Keith stretches his legs in the passenger seat, trying to gather himself after falling asleep against the window five minutes into the drive. Shiro had let him sleep, keeping the music low as he drove.

It’s been a long twenty-four hours. After getting home after their life shifting trip into the mountains the day before, Keith had only a few hours to (reluctantly) snatch some sleep. He would have preferred to put his money where his mouth was and show his husband how much he meant those words but Shiro had sent him to bed with a promise of _later_ and he’d spent most of his shift on his feet, rushing from job to job with Lance. The night had bled into morning and Lance had dumped him unceremoniously at their front door after it was deemed Keith was too tired to safely ride his bike. It was almost midmorning when he’d fallen into bed and he was more dismayed than he cared to admit that he’d missed seeing Shiro before he’d left for the garrison base.

Especially since it was Shiro’s first time back in the air to test his new flight suit and how the tech in his arm would perform. Keith had wanted to be there for him, but he’d crashed before he could even plug in his depleted phone to charge.

Shiro had woken him up in the afternoon by sliding a warm hand over his arm and kissing his cheek and it felt so good Keith thought he was still dreaming.

“They were a triad,” Keith answers after a moment, coming back to the present. “That’s what they called it. But Antok passed away a few years ago so it’s just Thace and Kolivan now.”

“I remember you telling me that,” Shiro says quietly.  He slides his hand over to squeeze Keith’s knee in sympathy.  “I’m sorry. What was he like?

“Antok?” Keith has to take a moment to recall him in his memory. The ache of his loss is muted but it’s still there. “Huge. He was this big, burly guy with a deep raspy voice. I used to hate it when he’d show up at school.”

“Why is that?”

“The other kids were scared of him. Parents too. He used to stand there really still, like a statue and as soon as they came too close or got too comfortable around him, he’d just yell ‘ _boo!’_ and scare them all to death. It was mortifying,” Keith laughs at the memory. He remembered being eleven and trying to impress the older kids at his new school. They were impressed eventually, but not by him. Didn’t give him any shit after that though. 

Shiro smiles in amusement at the story but Keith can see his mind ticking over, the slightest crease between his brows as he drives and digests the information.

“So Kolivan is the only one actually related to you by blood? Thace is his partner? Husband?”

“Partner. They never got around to making it official.”

“That’s surprising,” Shiro answers and it makes Keith look up with a frown. 

“Why is that?”

“Well, just that they had you. And from what you’ve told me, they had some pretty dangerous jobs. If something had happened to Kolivan, would Thace and Antok still be able to retain wardship of you? If you were a minor?”

Keith finds himself staring at the side of Shiro’s head. “I… I don’t know,” he says.  It’s never actually occurred to him before.  He doesn’t remember much of his mother, but his uncles have always been there, always on the fringes even before they were forced to step in and take over.

“Maybe they had another arrangement you didn’t know about,” Shiro tries to reassure him then but something about what Shiro says files itself away at the back of his mind to be re-examined later. Not that it really matters. He’s not a minor anymore. He’s grown with a husband of his own. A _family_ of his own.

Just him, Shiro and Black. It makes him smile to himself at the thought.

Shiro catches it. “What are you smiling at?”

“We’re a family,” Keith says. He says it the same way he did when he first starting saying _husband_.  Experimentally, turning the expression over in his mouth, feeling the way it settles on his tongue.  Liking the way it comes from the centre of him and rings with such strength and clarity.  “You, and me and Black.”

Shiro’s grin is impossibly wide. “That has a nice ring to it.”

It takes Keith a moment to realise Shiro is pulling the car into a side street before Keith can point out he’s going in the wrong direction.

“What are you doing?” Keith demands in confusion when Shiro cuts the engine.

“This,” Shiro says softly before he leans over and cups Keith’s face an instant before he lays his lips against Keith’s and slides them gently together. Keith’s eyes flutter closed at the contact, the warmth of Shiro’s big palms on his face, even from his bionic hand, and the beautifully gentle way he presses their lips together. Keith savours it, even as he knows this can’t go anywhere, not on a suburban street just before sunset on a Friday afternoon when his uncles are waiting for them.

All too soon Shiro pulls back, flips the car back into gear and they’re driving once again. Keith comes close to telling him to just turn around and drive them home but he’s also strangely eager to see his uncles again.

To see them with Shiro. To see Shiro with them and to welcome Shiro into that part of his history too.

“So, back to your uncles,” Shiro says a short time later. “What relation is Kolivan to your parents?”

Keith almost has to blink at the casual way Shiro resumes the conversation from earlier. As though he didn’t just turn Keith’s world upside down with a kiss as warm as the sun. “He’s my mom’s brother. I… I owe them a lot.  If it wasn’t for them, I probably would have ended up in the foster system. There isn’t any other family.”

Shiro’s eyes flick to him at that, but to Keith’s relief, he doesn’t poke at it. There was his father’s side, and his half-sisters but he didn’t really consider them as family. Not really.  He’d wanted to once, though.  “I remember Thace from the wedding, at least I have some common ground with him.”

“Are you nervous about spending time with them?” Keith asks, this tone lightly teasing. They have an overnight bag in the trunk even though it wasn’t more than an hour’s drive away. Staying the night was just what Keith usually did. If it all went to shit, he figured they could simply get back in the car, but if it didn’t -

Keith was looking forward to his uncles getting the chance to know the man he was married to a little better.

“Should I be?” Shiro asks. One eyebrow quirks up.

Keith huffs and he pauses before the answers.  “I haven’t really spoken to them much since the wedding. I’m nervous to see them. I’m not sure what they’re going to make of us… Together.”

“What did they say when you told them about the experiment?”

Keith chews the inside of his cheek before he answers. He remembers that night. He’d almost taken Lance with him to break the news but in the end he wasn’t sure how Lance’s exuberance would fit in with Thace and Kolivan’s more reserved natures so he’d faced them alone.

“They were… cautious,” he finally admits.  Shiro’s lips twist ruefully.

“Meaning they thought you were batshit crazy, right?”

“Something like that,” Keith admits. He can feel his nerves abruptly starting to amplify now that they’re getting closer to their destination. He’s not concerned about Shiro, he knows instinctively that Shiro will probably connect better with them than he ever could on the strength of his garrison’s history alone. But he’s nervous about what Shiro might see. About him, about his past.

Shiro seems to pick up on his unease. “It’s okay, Keith. We’ll face them together. You and me.”

“I know,” Keith sighs. He thinks about placing a warm hand on Shiro’s knee but opts not to. Probably best not to disturb him while he’s driving.  He might not be able to use touch, but he can still use his voice. “I love you, Shiro.”

Shiro’s smile is blinding and he gropes for Keith’s hand without taking his eyes off the road. He lifts it to his lips and kisses the back of Keith’s palm. “I love you too.”

Keith savours that contact. He savours those words, the way Shiro doesn’t hold back any more. Neither of them do now. And it’s a kind of freedom with his emotions he’s never experienced before.

_“So, you’re in love?” Honerva had asked them, eyebrows raised expectantly during their most recent video call before they left the townhouse._

_They look at each other from the couch, grinning. Keith’s fairly sure his face is going to start hurting from all the smiling he’s been doing and it’s possibly one of the strangest things he’s ever experienced. “Yes,” they say together and they’re so caught up in each other, Honerva has to clear her throat multiple times to get their attention back._

In love. Happy. Content. He loves his husband and he no longer has to hide it. He’s all in, in _every_ sense.

When they arrive at Keith’s uncles house, the sun is just dipping beyond the horizon and they make their way up the path in the blue gloom of twilight.  Either Kolivan or Thace have left the porch light on and it beckons Keith home with a small bloom of warmth on the inside of his chest.

The stairs creak slightly as they pass and at the front door, Keith pauses with his hand on the handle to flash Shiro a wry smile that he returns confidently.  “Ready for this?”

Shiro raises an eyebrow and his teeth flash as his smile gets wider. “Ready to learn all the embarrassing childhood stories about the man I married? Hell, yes. Let’s do this.”

For Keith, it’s a little strange walking inside the house he grew up in with Shiro at his side. He’d never even brought a date here and now he was here with his husband. Belatedly he realises how it must look to Shiro, the house full of the dark, muted colours his uncles prefer, rich burgundy tones on the walls and creaky hardwood floors that had taken him an entire childhood to master noiselessly. He had once known exactly where to step, what boards to avoid in order to sneak out into the darkness in complete silence. He’d thought he was so stealthy, like some kind of ninja until he’d stayed out a fraction too late after midnight and sneaking back in he had felt a huge shape shadowing him. It turned out to be Antok mimicking his every move and Keith had been grounded for a week as a result.

The thought of his burly guardian after all these years without him makes Keith feel a sharp pang of loss at his absence.

“Hello?” Keith calls out as they walk down the hall. Shiro follows wordlessly behind him, their overnight bag in one of his hands. Keith carries a different bag in his.

“In here,” a deep voice rumbles out from towards the back of the house and Keith experiences a vivid flash of déjà vu, of being a young kid being summoned to Kolivan’s side and knowing in his bones there was a reckoning coming.

The hall opens up into a living space that looks like it hasn’t changed since Keith had been a gap-toothed tween. It probably hasn’t. Kolivan was a creature of habit, he never enjoyed rocking the status quo. There were things he had not changed in all the years of Keith’s life, things he probably never would.

Like the long silver braid that flowed over one shoulder and the sharp cut of his shirt that still carried the faintly militaristic lines that governed his youth. Kolivan looks up from his place by the mantel, poised with his hands clasped behind his back and his jaw rigidly tight. To anyone who didn’t know him he might look intimidating and unapproachable, which was inherently the aura he wanted to project. Meaningless small talk was not Kolivan’s forte.

But Keith did know him, and he knew him well enough that when Kolivan turns and drops his hands to his sides, it’s the signal Keith needs to go to him and then Keith is welcomed into a hard, but solid hug from his uncle.

“Keith,” Kolivan curls two heavy, wide hands over the slim width of his shoulders. Keith is fairly sure Kolivan inwardly dismayed at Keith’s smaller frame, but Keith wasn’t bothered by it. It made him fast and nimble, not so heavy and set in his ways like his uncles. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks,” Keith grins at him, and there’s a reluctant softness that answers him in Kolivan’s eyes that Keith reads as affection. Kolivan takes his hand away then turns his attention to Shiro, hovering by the doorway to the room.

“Shiro,” he rumbles.  “Welcome.”

“Thank you,” Shiro says, smiling comfortably. He looks completely at ease but Keith finds himself gravitating back to Shiro’s side and entwining their fingers together. Shiro glances down at him in surprise before his smile turns into something just for Keith, a tiny acknowledgement of solidarity and he squeezes Keith’s fingers slightly. 

Thace comes out of the kitchen then, wearing an apron of all things that says _kiss the cook_ and Keith wisely chooses not to comment.  Unlike Kolivan, Thace is easier in his affection and before Keith can even open his mouth, Thace pulls him into a hug, thumping his back warmly as though he hasn’t seen Keith in months instead of just a few weeks ago at their wedding.

“Ugh, Thace,” Keith squirms, trying to disengage from his more exuberant uncle. “Let me breathe,” he mumbles.

“Keith, Shiro, welcome home.”

“Thank you,” Shiro says gracefully, taking Thace’s offered hand. They shake and Thace motions them to take a seat. There is a three-seater couch and two armchairs that have probably seen better days but Keith makes sure to tug Shiro to the couch so that they can sit side by side and thigh to thigh. It seems that he’s the one that might need the reassurance tonight.

He wants this to go well. He wants Thace and Kolivan to accept Shiro and he experiences a very brief and irrational fear that they won’t.

Shiro takes his hand an entwines their fingers together then rests their joined hands onto Keith’s knee.

“I trust the honeymoon went well,” Thace comments, with a less than sly glance at their joint hands. Keith flushes a little and dips his head.

“Yeah,” Keith finally answers. His voice sounds a little bit choked and he glances sideways at Shiro to find his husband fighting back a smile.  The memories of their honeymoon flash past and Keith’s lips twitch.

Thace and Kolivan ask a few more questions about the honeymoon, about Keith moving into Shiro’s townhouse and about being back at work. It’s on the tip of Keith’s tongue to mention Ezor’s appearance at his workplace but he chooses to keep that quiet until later. It’s still been playing on his mind but pushed back enough that it just lurks on the edges. So far, whatever she had tried to warn him about hadn’t come to pass. He was starting to think that maybe her warning was more of a cry for help than he gave her credit for.

Thace goes back into the kitchen and comes out with a few drinks, handing a beer to Shiro then he eyes Keith up and down and withdraws the drink with a shake of his head.

“None for you,” he says. “You look like a wreck.”

“Uh, thanks?” Keith mutters indignantly but he doesn’t fight the decision. He feels a little like he’s still running on fumes anyway, despite the nap in the car.  He’s pretty sure even one beer will have him snoring on Shiro’s shoulder and as much as he loves his uncle, he doesn’t trust Thace not to pull out his baby photos and every embarrassing anecdote purely for Shiro’s entertainment while he can’t defend himself.

As it happens, Thace saves all that for dinner table.

They keep the meal simple, outside on the deck attached to the rear of the house where the evening has become cool and the sounds of the neighbourhood leak over the fence. It still sounds the same as when Keith was a kid, and it abruptly occurs to him how strange their makeshift family must seem in such a simple, suburban neighbourhood. His uncles weren’t the types to advertise and Keith was sure there were still neighbours that speculated long and hard over the three gruff men who were raising a scrappy, dark haired boy.

They’d eaten out here on the deck often in the warm summer months before Antok got sick. Kolivan manning the grill as Thace and Antok put Keith to work chopping vegetables for a salad. Those were good nights, the four of them together and relaxed and nights like that helped Keith to forget about the gaping hole in his chest where his parents should be.

Shiro rubs his knee under the table, a soothing gesture to bring his attention back from the trip into memory lane. He’s listening as Thace relates yet another highly embarrassing story that has Keith wondering why they just didn’t do a video call so at least he could mute the more mortifying parts. Or just hang up. Hanging up would be good right now.

“Then there was the time Keith snuck out of the house when he was twelve when he was supposed to be grounded-” Thace starts to says.

“Oh, no, another one?” Keith groans then. “Haven’t you told enough embarrassing stories tonight?”

“Shh, Keith, let the man speak,” Shiro tries to shush him. His cheeks are pink from laughing and an extra beer he normally wouldn’t touch. At least Keith wouldn’t have to worry about whether or not Shiro could relax in the company of his uncles. He was more at ease than Keith was.

Shiro turns his rapt attention back to Thace. “What happened?”

Thace looks directly at Keith, almost as though asking for permission. Keith rolls his eyes, a half-resigned grimace on his lips as he waves his hand. He knows when he’s beaten. And if he’s completely honest with himself, he kind of likes the way Shiro’s eyes light up and his shoulders are relaxed and his smile is lighting up the room. At one point, Keith couldn’t stop staring at him, only to realise that Kolivan was staring at _him_ with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher.

“You’re just going to tell him anyway,” Keith shrugs and slumps against the back of his chair.  He decides it’s not so bad when Shiro absently mirrors him, then drapes his arm across the back of Keith’s shoulders. He absorbs Shiro’s warmth through the back of his shirt and tries not to cringe too hard when Thace chuckles.

There’s something in Thace’s laugh that pricks at Keith’s ears and he casts a more scrutinizing glance in his uncle’s direction. He’s hid it well tonight, but now his illness is starting to bleed through in subtle ways.

“I broke my arm,” Keith supplies to save Thace from elaborating. Thace throws him an amused glance but then it’s Kolivan who cuts in.

“And he hid it from us for almost two days.”

“Two days?” Shiro says incredulously. “How did you manage to do that?”

“A crap load of ice,” Keith grins, a flicker of smugness overtaking his embarrassment. Two days he’d managed to keep the pain at bay and it was only after Antok got suspicious enough to wonder why he was constantly raiding the freezer that he’d been busted.  He had been grounded after that incident too.

“A stubborn streak as wide as the milky way,” Kolivan says and the stern look he sends across the table almost makes Keith want to squirm in his seat. “By the time we discovered it, he needed the bone reset so that it would heal properly.”

“Antok was furious,” Thace muses. His voice goes into a quiet reflection that Keith recognises he gets when he talks of their lost lover. “Refused to let Keith skip even a day of training despite his arm in a cast. Forced him to use the other side-”

“Yeah, but it was okay. Now I can do this,” and Keith picks up his steak knife from the table and rolls and flips it over the knuckles of one hand before flipping it onto his other hand and repeating the notion perfectly.

“But-“ Shiro tilts his head. He looks suitably impressed, but also speculative. “You’re ambidextrous.”

Keith grins, just a flash of teeth and it makes Shiro laugh. “Yep.”

“Impudent child,” Kolivan says with a slight shake of his head, but his lips curve up in a slight smile. “I’m sure he gets it from his mother.”

Keith’s mood abruptly falters.

Silence rings around the table for a beat and Keith feels Shiro’s gaze turn to him, boring into the side of his head. He doesn’t look up, still fighting back the rough claw that tries to curl around his throat whenever his mother is mentioned.

It’s a sore point, because Kolivan refused to tell him so much and gave him very little at all. Any discussions were on Kolivan’s terms, and his terms only, no matter how much Keith had fought and spat and argued over the years.

He’d finally resigned himself to not knowing. Not knowing who she was, or why Kolivan reviled her so much. He never said it out loud, but Keith could sense it in the absence of her memory in his childhood. No photos on the mantle, no warm stories, no clues as to why she’d gone or what happened to her. And what did he have left, aside from a pocket knife and a name? Not much at all.

“From the ages of two until four, he couldn’t keep his clothes on,” Thace slides into the empty space before it can get awkward. “Just a half-naked rascal terrorizing the household.”

Thace tips his beer at Keith and raises an eyebrow and Keith forces himself to chuckle. It rings hollow enough that Shiro glances as him then leans in. Under the pretence of pressing his lips to Keith’s temple in an indulgent display of affection, he murmurs against Keith’s hair.

“Wish you didn’t grow out of that,” he says. Shiro’s laughter rumbles in his chest as Keith tries to kick him under the table.

“Okay, well did Shiro tell you he’s going to be flying again?” Keith drops in, sliding a triumphant glance at his husband when the attention immediately slides to him. Shiro flushes slightly, especially under Kolivan’s very deliberate shift, his large body angling towards him. Kolivan’s gaze flickers to Shiro’s metallic hand.

Too late Keith wonders how much his uncles knew about his husband. About his history, the crash and the furore that came afterwards. Kolivan had turned his back on the garrison and his special forces history when Keith was still young, shouldering the unexpected responsibility of raising him but Thace and Antok had been tethered longer. Thace especially, having only finished active duty less than two years ago, would no doubt have heard about the crash. He probably knew even more than Keith did.

“What are you flying?” Thace asks easily and Keith finds himself tensing, trying to gauge how this will go but Thace and Shiro fall into an easy conversation about things Keith can only half follow.  As they talk, he starts to gather the plates to carry them inside, giving Shiro a quick shake of the head when he tries to help.

“No, I’m okay. You guys bond,” he says with a wry roll of his eyes and Shiro sends him a warm smile just for him.

He doesn’t realise he’s not alone in the kitchen until he’s stacking the dishwasher and movement from the doorway catches his eye.

Kolivan stands there, silent and stoic, again with an expression that Keith can’t quite figure out.

After a lifetime with this man as a parental figure, Keith figured he should have been better at reading him by now.

“What pearls of wisdom do you have for me tonight?” he says flatly, turning back to stacking the plates. He can feel Kolivan’s gaze piercing into him as he works and it sets off some small, adolescent part of him that wants to snark back and poke until he finds the line that will make his uncle crack.  “Let me guess, you think we’re moving too fast, too emotional, too impet-“

“Are you… content?”

“What?” Keith has to pause mid stack. The plate he’s holding drips water onto the floor.  “What?” he asks again, trying to bend his perceptions to his uncle’s rumbling question and his normally held back countenance. 

Kolivan does not deign to repeat himself. 

After a beat, Keith dumps the plate and straightens. He doesn’t bother trying to engage in some kind of wilful power battle with his uncle tonight. He’s too tired and he doesn’t feel like fighting. But there was something in the back of Keith’s mind that prickles at Kolivan’s stern façade. 

His head knows Kolivan just wants what’s best for him, that he loves him – in his own, held back way. But his heart knows that Kolivan looks at him, sees the same mass of dark hair, the same sharp features and violet hued eyes of his mother, and he wonders how much of his reserved nature was because he blamed him for his mother’s delinquencies.

 _I’m not her,_ he wants to yell.  _I would have made her stay if I could!_

The twenty-five year old paramedic in him, the same one who had seen blood and guts and fought the fragile line between life and death on too many occasions to count _knew_ he wasn’t responsible for his mother’s absence. He knew it. He understood it. But the scared, lonely and abandoned child inside him with the scrapes on his knees and stars in his eyes didn’t.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. He thinks about Shiro, the warmth that sits in his chest where the cold used to be. He thinks about the matching bands they wear, the invisible tether that links them even now. He thinks about the sound of Shiro’s voice when he says his name, the way his lips curve when he smiles, the way he can be so commanding and deliberate in his actions, or humorous and gentle in his speech.

He thinks about how Shiro loves him. And even as confused and a little bit rough around the edges as he is, Shiro still sees something in him worth loving. He just hopes Shiro will always see that.

“Yeah, I am. I… I love him.”

He catches the slight flare of Kolivan’s nostrils, the way his eyes widen ever so slightly before his expression shuts down again. Keith swallows the lump in his throat, bracing himself for the reprimand he knows is coming even as he decides, no. He’s not going to let anyone try to take this from him.

“Then that’s all I can ask.”

Keith knows it’s as close as he’s going to get to a blessing.

 

* * *

 

Shiro takes in the dynamic between Keith and his uncles with great curiosity. There’s warmth there but the undercurrent of resentment from Keith is hard to ignore. It starts at the casual way Kolivan mentions his mother, then refuses to divulge anything further that has his husband tensing up beside him. 

It makes him wary. And it makes him regret the third beer Thace had offered him during the meal.

“Keith,” he manages to pull Keith aside, into the shadows of the hallway that leads to the front door as they steal inside to get another drink. He can hear Kolivan and Thace murmuring quietly together on the deck, Thace’s voice placating but Kolivan’s slightly sharp.  “Baby, we don’t have to stay. We can go home right now-“

“What?” Keith frowns at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re upset. If you want to leave-“

Realization dawns on Keith’s face and his mouth slides open on a small _oh_. Shiro aches under the weight in his chest of what he feels for him. He can feel it rushing to the fore with the aid of the alcohol in his system. It weakens his inhibitions but in this he doesn’t care. He loves Keith and he resolves bravely to never hide that fact.

“No,” Keith says again. He runs a hand through his dark hair and for a second it’s slicked back from his face that Shiro can read the disquiet there. “I’m okay. I don’t want to leave. It’s… it’s important to me that you’re here. With me-“

He trails off, and Shiro takes advantage of the shadows to cup his husband’s face and kiss him. He’s a little tipsy and he uses a little more force than he means to so when they kiss their teeth clack and Keith tries to pull away. Shiro chases him but Keith’s laughing softly and the sound makes angels sing inside Shiro’s brain.

“You have beer breath,” Keith laughs.  “And I’m pretty sure you might be kind of drunk.”

“I’m not. I’m totally sober.”

Keith laughs again and it makes Shiro grin. Just like that, the tension that had been coiled through Keith’s lean frame seems to dissipates and Shiro feels immensely pleased that he was responsible for that. The wave of affection hits him hard again. Strangely, his eyes prick under the force of it.

“I love you,” he says but it comes out a little hoarse. “I really do. I think I love you even more now that I know you were such a little shit growing up-“

“Shiro,” Keith laughs harder, snuffling into Shiro’s chest, his shoulders shuddering. Shiro is pretty sure his grin is going to split his face wide open.  “You are a lightweight,” Keith says when he draws back enough to look up.

The top of Keith’s head is almost the perfect height for Shiro to lean forward and kiss his forehead.  Why did he never notice that before? He tries to do it now but Keith curls a determined hand around the nape of his neck and very firmly guides him into a kiss that sets his nerves on fire and makes his toes curl and Shiro has to struggle to remember where they are, that he’s supposed to be trying to make a good impression in front of his husband’s family (effectively his in-laws - _outlaws?)_ and that pawing at him in the middle of their hallway might not be the best way to go about it.

But god, Keith kisses him so well that he lets out a frustrated whine when Keith yanks his head gently but firmly back enough to break them apart.

“I love you,” Keith says. The conviction in his voice settles over Shiro like a warm blanket. And he does. Shiro can read it in those clear, beautiful violet eyes and he wonders how the fuck did he get so lucky and maybe he’s dead, maybe he did crash that plane after all because he’s sure he just tasted heaven. “You’re the best thing that’s ever been mine,” Keith adds with such ferocity there’s no possible way anyone could doubt him.

Shiro manages to steal another kiss before footsteps sound on the floorboards and they pull away guiltily. Which is ridiculous, he tries to tell himself, _they’re married._ They’re not two teenagers lurking in shadowy corners trying to make out when the instructors aren’t looking and then suddenly he’s imagining his husband as a teenager doing just that and he gets annoyed enough he realises he needs to sober up.

_Great first impression, Takashi._

They end up migrating into the kitchen. It’s open plan with a rectangular table in the centre.  Thace motions for him to take a seat but he declines and helps Keith to stack the dishwasher despite Thace’s protests. It’s enough for him to sober up and he picks up on something he hadn’t quite noticed before when he spies Keith’s kit sitting ominously on the table.

“We can do this upstairs,” he hears Keith say quietly to Thace a short time later. “If that would make you more comfortable.”

Thace looks faintly amused and he catches Shiro’s eye.  “Shiro’s family now, is he not?”

“Yeah,” Keith looks up at him. The smile he gives him is wry but it’s soft. “He is.”

“Then it’s settled,” Thace says, taking a seat at the table and starting to roll up the sleeve on one arm.  Keith unfurls his kit.

“Have you been taking all your meds like you’re supposed to?” Keith asks. Shiro nurses a glass of water and watches on quietly. Keith hadn’t mentioned this to him, but it really doesn’t take a genius to put it all together. He’s almost embarrassed at himself that it took this long.

The sudden weakness that had Thace chairbound, the pallor of Thace’s skin, the lack of appetite over dinner. Shiro had thought it was just the excitement over their conversation, the retelling of old memories that made him chuckle too much to eat- but no, it was something else.

Thace was sick.

Keith draws a small amount of blood from Thace’s arm and clicks it into the small machine in his kit before turning back to check the rest of his uncle’s vitals.

Shiro finds himself enthralled at watching his husband work.

Keith’s voice subtly changes as he works, carrying a heavy tone of steel that lends itself to a comfortable professionalism. It’s a faint echo of their honeymoon, when Shiro had caught the tiniest glimpse of his husband in his working mode but now he sees that coming to the fore. They’re not a nephew with their uncle anymore, now it’s a medic with their patient.

“Yes. Although there are some that I’m considering doing away with,” Thace grimaces.

Keith looks at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

Thace rattles off the name of something Shiro has never heard of and Keith’s slight frown deepens into something that boarders on alarm. He checks the readings on his kit then narrows his eyes at Thace.

“You’ll outlive us all _if_ you just follow the prescription plan,” Keith says, something akin to ire simmering under his skin. Then he glances up at Shiro.  “Thace had a lot of exposure to radiation when he was in the black. He’ll be fine though, as long as he sticks to the plan.”

Keith throws Thace a pointed look. Shiro can’t be sure, but Thace looks vaguely uneasy.

“Maybe it’s time I talked to Allura again,” Keith comments. “See if we can get you something stronger.” He’s frowning as he preps a needle. He gives it a flick, presumably to dislodge an air bubble, before sliding it into his uncles arm.  Thace winces slightly and Keith gives him a flat look.  “Don’t be such a baby,” he says.

Thace’s chuckle is weak but whatever Keith gives him seems to work almost instantly.  The lines around his mouth ease and he sighs deeply.  Keith steps back and packs up his gear, his expression set into something that looks like satisfaction. 

“How long were you up there for?” Shiro asks Thace. He’d guessed at their wedding somehow that Thace was ex-garrison, but he didn’t realise in what capacity.

In Thace’s era, a significant number of the galaxy garrison personnel who went into space didn’t come home.

“Long enough to come back with radiation poisoning,” Keith says and there’s something about his tone that has Thace exchanging a glance with Shiro and the conversation abruptly moves onto something else.

Shiro sits back in his chair, Iverson’s invitation once again hovering around the edges of his thoughts. He doesn’t want to go there tonight but the more time he’s spending with Keith, the more he sees of this side of his husband, the more the faint unease deep in his chest starts to grow whenever talk of the garrison comes up.

Shiro almost wishes he had another beer.

[art by 91939art](https://91939art.tumblr.com/post/176769968045/we-can-do-this-upstairs-he-hears-keith-say)

* * *

 

Keith leads the way upstairs and down the hallway. The floors still wear the same worn carpet they did when he was a kid and each room they pass has its own story, its own purpose.

He avoids looking at the doorway closest to the top of the stairs. It’s been years, but it still feels like yesterday and if he pauses too long, the smell of antiseptic stills stings his nose. It’s not there really, it’s just a memory. He knows because the smell of antiseptic is as familiar to him as his own shampoo these days but the one in his memory is harsher, more bitter. As though laced with the infection and decay it was trying to hold at bay.

He marches past it resolutely, aware of Shiro’s solid mass behind him and he takes comfort in that presence. Further down the hall he pushes open the bedroom door and remembers too late his room was mostly unchanged since he’d left for the city.  The bed not quite a double, pushed up against one wall, a bookshelf stands on the other and a window that faces the yard is shielded by, a block of solid colour curtains. Opposite the bed, there’s a simple wooden desk with nonsense scratched into the vanish, courtesy of idle nights when he was bored but was supposed to have been studying.

It makes him feel like he’s seventeen again. And now he’s here, with his husband.

It a very strange kind of disconnect when Shiro slips past him into the room and glances around, wandering over to the bookshelf and running his eyes over the tattered spines of his books, the small collection of trophies from the time he’d fallen into mixed martials under Antok’s tutelage. Shiro raises his eyebrow at those and gives Keith a sly look before he takes a seat on the edge of the bed and leans back casually.

“So, this is your room, huh?”

Keith falters slightly, wondering what exactly it was that Shiro saw when he looked around. His room was much the way it had always been, despite Antok teasing him relentlessly how he had plans to turn it into a personal games room for their poker nights as soon as Keith was old enough to head to college.  It had pissed Keith off at the time, like they couldn’t wait to be rid of him but then Antok had got sick and the poker room just became a weak joke between them.  Then he passed and nothing changed at all, even when everything did.

“Yeah,” he answers with a shrug. He drops their overnight onto the seat of the chair by the desk and leans back against it with his arms crossed. There’s a wide space between them in the room, noticeable enough that Shiro eyes him with a small flicker of concern.

“Are you okay?”

Keith nods but he’s abruptly consumed by something he can’t name. It’s his past and his present and his future all blurring into one and the force of it makes his world tilt slightly. His childhood was behind him, his present was around him and his future was laid out in front of him.

His future with Shiro.

It makes him want to rub at the ache that’s cropped up against his breastbone and without consciously realising it, his hand moves and his lips twist.  Shiro pulls himself up, crossing the room in two long strides and leans against the desk beside him, mirroring his pose. His arms don’t clench as tightly as he crosses them and he doesn’t seem to suffer the same faint tremble but his proximity settles Keith instantly.  He lets Shiro’s calm wash over him, taking away the tension until he lists sideways slightly and leans his head on Shiro’s shoulder. At the action, Shiro uncrosses his arms to slide one around Keith’s waist.

“It feels weird, you know?” Keith says after a moment, breaking the silence that had descended. He doesn’t really elaborate, trusting that Shiro knows what he means. Shiro was good at that, he was good at reading between the spaces of his words. How was it that someone who knew him for so little time already understood him so clearly? Even Kolivan couldn’t, and he’d known Keith all his life.

“I don’t really,” Shiro replies.  “I grew up on bases, in dorms with a bunch of other kids and then I was in the officer barracks. I never had a space like this. Something constant that stayed with me through my whole life.”

“That’s why the townhouse means so much to you now.”

Shiro tilts his head, leaning it against Keith’s hair. Their shoulders touch. Shiro doesn’t need to answer so he doesn’t. “What do you think teenage Keith would have made of this?” he asks instead.

Keith snorts a little. “Teenage me would think I was crazy and a loser but then teenage me was an asshole.”

Something about the way he says it makes Shiro start to laugh. He straightens up and moves back towards the bed, tugging gently on one of Keith’s hands.  Keith finds it hard to resist. “You keep saying that, but I don’t know. I think I would have liked to have known teenage Keith.”

“No,” Keith shakes his head as he follows Shiro. Shiro pulls him down onto the mattress with him and then end up lying on their sides and face to face. The sheets smell slightly musty and the springs creak in protest under their combined weight. Shiro slides his thigh over Keith’s long legs. “You really wouldn’t have.”

“You don’t think we would have been friends?” Shiro asks curiously. He props his head up on his elbow and his bionic hand rests against Keith’s hip. He’s half smiling, challenging Keith but indulging him too.

“Ah, golden boy of the garrison,” Keith waves a hand at Shiro then at himself. “Weird loner, emo kid with a bad attitude. Yeah, no way.”

“I’m not sure if I should be offended you think I’d be so shallow,” Shiro lifts an eyebrow and Keith snorts again in answer.

“I think we would have,” Shiro says then and the look in his eyes tells Keith he believes it.  He looks so earnest it makes Keith want to see what he sees. “We would have been friends.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Keith snickers but it feels a little hollow. He can’t picture it. Or maybe he can. He tries to imagine what his life would have been like if he’d followed Thace’s footsteps. He had the grades, that was a no brainer. He could have been wearing that ugly orange uniform, pining after an up and coming officer who wouldn’t even know his name. “Maybe in another life we might have been.”

“Matt told me about a professor he worked with once who always talked about parallel universes and alternative realities. Maybe in one of those we were. Are? Who knows.”

“Alternate realities? So, what, there’s a universe somewhere where I joined the garrison?” Keith says dubiously.

“Supposedly,” Shiro lifts one shoulder in half a shrug then he drops down, his head on the pillow beside Keith’s.  “And probably one where I didn’t crash or lose my arm-“

Shiro trails off and silence reigns as their minds skip along those threads. Keith doesn’t get far, he slams the door shut to those possibilities. He doesn’t like what they conjure up. Because maybe if that’s the case, then maybe there’s a world somewhere where his mother didn’t leave him and that hurts too much to think about.

“I do know one thing though,” Shiro says after a moment. He turns in towards him, clasping Keith’s chin gently and brushing a thumb over his lips. Keith likes the way Shiro’s eyes go dark and drop to his mouth. It makes him feel warm and wanted, like he’s on the cusp of something beautiful.

“Yeah?” he breathes. “What’s that?”

“I know I’d love you in every reality,” Shiro whispers huskily, and Keith can taste the conviction behind his words. “Every one.”

Keith reaches for him but Shiro’s already gathering him close, burying his face into Keith’s hair. For a resounding, heart stopping moment, Keith believes it. He believes it but then there’s an ominous pop and the bed jolts and Keith has a vision of the bed falling apart under them.

“Shit, sorry” he mutters, scrambling away but Shiro is laughing quietly to himself.

“Are we going to end up on the floor?”

“I’m not sure.”

Keith eyes the bed nervously, then very gingerly climbs back on. He moves slowly, listening out for any more strange creaks or pops but there are none and he ends up pressed against Shiro once again.

“You should have got the light while you were up,” Shiro mumbles after a few moments. Keith has his face tucked into Shiro’s neck, already half succumbing to the inviting hands of sleep trying to drag him under.  He groans a little at Shiro’s words.

“We’re still dressed,” he mumbles. His eyelids feel heavy.

Shiro pokes him. “Hey,” he protests.

“Come on baby, at least get your jeans off.”

“You get them off,” Keith mutters, then yelps softly when Shiro shoves him hard enough to do just that and he rolls too far and ends up falling off the bed. He lands on his backside with a thump.  “The fuck!”

“Oh, shit, Keith-“ Shiro tries to hold back his laughter but fails and ends up shuddering into the sheets as Keith pulls himself upright. Keith dangles one wrist over his knee and frowns.    

“Nice. Real nice, Takashi.”

Shiro is still trying to muffle his laughter into the pillow when he raises his head. His hair is mussed up and his eyes look like they’re watering from his struggle not to laugh. Keith isn’t sure why he’s bothering trying to hide it but just his efforts alone have Keith’s own lips twitching. 

“Guess those floorboards aren’t as soft as sand, huh?” Shiro smirks at him enough to make him laugh outright. His husband manages to stop laughing long enough to sit up. He’s still grinning with barely constrained humour though.

“I should make you go sleep on the couch,” Keith gripes then pulls off his shirt and dumps it on Shiro’s head before shucking his jeans down. By the time he changes his clothes and turns off the light and turns around, Shiro’s standing by the bed in nothing but a pair of boxers and Keith is torn between trying to hold onto his indignation and sheer longing to get his hands on his husband once again.

The longing wins out.

“Hey,” Shiro whispers in the dark when Keith crosses to his side. Shiro slips an arm around his waist and Keith is pressed against his husband’s bare chest. He’s so warm, even the harder part of his prosthetic is barely noticeable under the heat.  “I didn’t know you were into stargazing as a kid.”

“What?” Keith answers in confusion, a frown stealing over his face.  There’s barely any light, just a slither from under the door from down the hall, probably Kolivan or Thace still moving around before they retire for the night. They were both night owls, they would no doubt still be up for hours yet.

Shiro points up to the ceiling. At least, that what it seems like he’s doing as Keith’s eyes adjust quickly in the dark. Keith follows the line of his finger and looks up, a flash of realisation washing over him as he spies the glowing yellow stars and planets stuck to his bedroom ceiling.  There were hundreds of them. All painstakingly applied in over the course of an afternoon when he was nine, balancing precariously on a ladder and getting a crick in his neck that left him with a headache for a week. It had taken him hours to do on his own but that night he’d laid under neon starlight and it had been so worth it.

Over the years he’d gotten so used to them he didn’t think about them much at all. He looks up at them now, even as Shiro tugs him back into the bed once again, this time side by side and under the sheets. It was a tight fit but Keith always shuffles closer to Shiro anyway. The stars glow above them.

“If I squint, I can make out constellations,” Shiro whispers. 

“I don’t recognise any,” Keith whispers back. The only constellations he saw were the once he’d created in his imagination. A haphazard mass of stars that might be any other galaxy a million, trillion miles away.

Certainly nothing from Earth.

“Sure,” Shiro says. “That one looks like the ones we saw on the beach that night.”

He has no idea what Shiro’s pointing to, but a bit like that night on the beach, on their honeymoon before a storm had rolled in, he pretends he can’t make it out.  “Which one?”

Shiro’s chuckle is a rumble against his ear. He knows what Keith is about. He crowds a little closer and if it’s possible, his voice drops another octave. “That one, do you see it?”

Keith hums in the dark, not really paying much attention to the now fading star stickers on the ceiling. He’s much too focused on the wall of heat beside him, and the sweet curve of his husband’s lips. He doesn’t taste like beer anymore, now he tastes like mint and chocolate and the emotion, the sheer strength of what he feels for his man grabs him and shakes him like a ragdoll.

“Love you,” he hears himself murmur and Shiro answers it with a touch of his lips and a wide heavy slide of his hand up under Keith’s shirt.

“Loved you as soon as you fell out of that hammock,” Shiro whispers back and in spite of himself, Keith’s laugh is a snuffle against Shiro’s chest. “Guess you really _fell_ for me.”

“Oh my god,” Keith huffs against Shiro’s skin. He can almost _hear_ Shiro grinning in the darkness. “Was that a pun? You’re ridiculous.”

“How’s your ass?”

“Off limits to you now,” Keith retorts and makes to shuffle away but Shiro snatches him back, the both of them laughing softly in the dark as Shiro kisses an apology into his mouth. Shiro’s warm and heavy frame pins Keith into the mattress.

Okay. Teenage Keith would be pretty impressed by this. He bagged himself an Adonis and a half, even if teenage him would have be horrified at the thought he’d signed up for an experiment.

He didn’t care about that now. He didn’t care it had taken science for himself and Shiro to find each other. Maybe they would have eventually, maybe they wouldn’t have at all. It didn’t bear thinking about anymore.

He’s starting to drift, lost in the easy thrum of Shiro’s heartbeat against him when Shiro’s hand dips under his shirt again, sliding upwards slowly. It’s a very deliberate slide, and Keith comes awake instantly when he recognises it for what it is. That same hand sliding south and creeping under the band of his sleep pants a moment later only confirms it.

“Shiro,” he says frostily.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Shiro’s lips curve where they’re planted against the skin of his neck. He’s brushed away Keith’s hair, leaving a slight shiver he tries to fight roll over him.

“You know, we haven’t really celebrated yet,” Shiro murmurs quietly.  His hand wanders slightly further south and Keith is suddenly torn between freezing in alarm and wanting to melt into it.

“Celebrated what?”

“That we said the L word.”  Shiro’s hand moves again and okay, that slow journey south to cup him was making the nerve endings in Keith’s body go haywire. He’s powerless to resist letting a deep sigh escape when Shiro takes him in hand but then he manages to shake his head.

“Shiro,” he hisses. “I am _not_ going to let you fuck me with my uncles in the next room.”

“Well, you could fuck me,” Shiro suggests with a light scrape of his teeth along Keith’s skin. “Besides, they’re not in the next room, their room is down the hall. I checked.”

Keith bats him away. “No,” he hisses again and Shiro laughs softly as he withdraws his hands.

“Teenage Keith would be so disappointed in you right now.”

 

* * *

 

The nap in the car catches up with him and halfway through the night, he ends up wide awake and listening to the quiet snuffle of Shiro against his shoulder. It’s a delicate operation but he manages to untangle himself from his heavily slumbering husband to slip out of the room and down the hallway.

It’s the quiet time of the night, when most of the neighbourhood is tucked up and sleeping in their beds in darkened houses. Keith navigates the stairs from memory but the glow in the kitchen colours the last few steps. He’s not surprised at all when he walks in to find Thace at the table.

“What are you doing awake?” he asks quietly, mindful of keeping his voice low. Thace looks pale, too pale for Keith’s comfort and he immediately takes a seat at Thace’s side, lifting a hand to place two fingers and a thumb against his uncle’s wrist. The heartbeat is steady but there’s obvious discomfort in Thace’s eyes.  “Are you in pain?”

Thace gives him a small smile. “Most days,” he says simply and just those two words is enough to make Keith’s heart constrict inside his chest.

“Have you taken anything?”

“Of course,” Thace answers ruefully.  “I’m not interested in torturing myself.”

“I should call Allura. She’ll be able to prescribe something stronger-“

“Keith,” Thace sighs, and it’s his tone more than the sound of his name that cuts him off.  Keith doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like the flare of panic that wants to crawl its way up his throat.

“Don’t you dare,” Keith says roughly, fighting back the prick of tears behind his eyes.  “Don’t you dare do what Antok did.”

“Kolivan’s going to need you, Keith,” Thace says, as though Keith hadn’t spoken at all. “You’re going to need each other.”

“No. No, stop talking like this. You’re going to be fine.”

Thace regards him silently for a moment, his gaze laced with a pain that is more than just his failing body. It hurts Keith to look. It hurts him to see it and be helpless against it so he lurches to his feet and walks towards the kettle, filling it silently and flicking it on. The low hum it makes as the water boils is soothing.

Almost.

“I’m glad you have Shiro,” Thace says later, once their hands are curled around mugs of fragrant cocoa. It’s just a powdered hot chocolate mix but it’s another thing in this house that reminds Keith vividly of his childhood. On the nights he couldn’t sleep or he had a bad dream of purple starlight and hulking aliens, it had been Thace who would sit up with him until he was sleepy enough to go back to bed and it’s another odd sense of displacement to be sitting here with him now, as though time was trying to bend back on itself and reset, forcing him to relive it all.  He refused to do that. He refused to go back to a time he didn’t have Shiro.  “He’s a good man. The garrison didn’t do right by him.”

“You know?” Keith asks quietly. He’s not surprised when Thace nods, just once and stares into the surface of his drink. It seems like everyone knows more about the trials of his husband than he did. Maybe it was time to fix that.

“I was there when the hearings were happening. I don’t know why the garrison brass tried so hard to pin it on him like they did. They were trying to hide something and made him the scapegoat. He didn’t deserve that.”

“No,” Keith agrees. He doesn’t know the details but he knows the truth of Thace’s words deep in his heart.

“I’m surprised he continues to work with them,” Thace continues.

A dark shape looms in the doorway and a deep voice rumbles. “It speaks to his character that he does.”

 _Or maybe that’s just all he knows,_ Keith thinks to himself as Kolivan shuffles into the room on heavy feet. He has a dark navy robe tied around him and his braid has been released into a wild curtain of silver down his back. He takes a seat on Thace’s other side and Thace reaches out to twist a lock of silver around one finger.  The quiet look they share is intimate and Keith is an intruder looking in.

It makes him ache for Shiro.

“I think I’ll go back to bed,” he says, pushing away from the table to tip the rest of his drink down the sink. He’s still worried about Thace, but he’s just a paramedic. There’s only so much he can do without calling in the support of those more skilled than him. He could call Allura- as a doctor, she would have the clout to deal with Thace, but Thace wouldn’t respect him if he did that against his wishes. He had to choose his battles carefully with Thace, or he might end up shut out altogether.

He leaves his uncles sitting at the table, his stomach churning with the knowledge there is pain on the horizon.

 

* * *

 

Shiro comes awake to the creak of the bedsprings and the dipping of the mattress, a split second before his husband’s fluff of hair tickles his nose and a weight lands against his chest. Keith isn’t subtle about shifting in the bed, which tells Shiro he needs something and waking him up was deliberate.

“Did you go somewhere?” he mumbles sleepily. Keith shuffles closer. The bed creaks again.

“Bathroom,” Keith answers but even in Shiro’s half awake state, he can sense there’s more. He forces his eyes open, expecting to see a sliver of deep blue light colouring the room to herald the dawn but there’s nothing but inky blackness. 

“What time is it?”

“Mmm, about two,” Keith answers. He slides one of his legs between Shiro’s thighs and his hand trails down Shiro’s bare spine. Something about that action twigs at the back of his mind and Shiro lets the last dredges of sleep fall away.

He lies there as Keith’s hands continue their exploration over his chest, over the slight ridges and bumps of his scars. They used to bother him but Keith traces them like a road map to his heart and with each pass, Shiro becomes more convinced that Keith is looking for something.

His suspicion is confirmed when Keith flattens his palms and adds more force to his touch. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to change the message of his ministrations from merely idle to distinctly suggestive. Shiro blinks in the darkness.

“I thought you didn’t want me to fuck you,” Shiro murmurs but the laugh he expects from Keith doesn’t come. After a moment, he catches one of Keith’s wrists gently to still his hand. “Keith?”

“Just need to be close to you right now,” Keith says it so quietly Shiro has to strain to hear him. Shiro releases his wrist and then Keith is pushing him back and climbing onto his lap. The springs creak even more ominously.

“Well, if you’re that keen, we might have to move this party to the floor,” Shiro says with a slight smile.

He would really rather not move from the bed, it’s old but surprisingly comfortable and the last time they did it on the floor his knees ached for days but he can’t ignore the needy way Keith leans into him, and it becomes obvious that Keith is angling for something that’s more than just sex, more than just getting off. 

And whatever his husband needs, Shiro is more than happy to provide.

He leans in, pressing in against the skin of Keith’s collarbone, tracing over the warm, firm line there before licking into the small hollow at the base of his throat. Keith shudders, his hands curled against Shiro’s shoulders, eyes closed and his lips softly parted. He’s a confusing mix of passive and aggressive, as though he’s not really sure what he wants or what he needs. One moment he’s grappling against Shiro with long legs and long fingers, the next he feels like molten gold, warm and smooth in his arms.

It’s a delightful contradiction Shiro finds himself painfully aroused over.

He tries to shuffle his way lower, pushing away Keith’s shirt and trailing over the skin of his abdomen, nudging along the thin snail trail there but the bed creaks again and something pops.  They both freeze then Keith swears softly and rolls off, sliding to the floor and leaning against the bed with his head in his hands.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Shiro whispers.  He’s… he’s a little confused. He slips off the bed as gracefully as he can to sit on the floor at Keith’s side. “I thought you were into this?”

Keith’s head snaps up and it’s the first time Shiro notices the sparkle on his cheek from the light sliding in under the door. He has the strange sense of falling into a memory, of being a teenager again with his first boyfriend, hiding in the back of one of the campus libraries and making out clumsily because they were both too tense and nervous about getting caught.

That memory felt like a long time ago now.

“Keith,” he sighs and something flails weakly in his chest. He knows instinctively he can’t push, that Keith will talk in his own time but it still frustrates him that he’s sitting on the floor of his husband’s childhood bedroom in the middle of the night, half worked up with Keith shuddering silently beside him and he doesn’t know _why._ Shiro considers himself to be a fairly patient man, but even he can only go so far.

He reaches out and snags Keith’s hand, interlacing their fingers together. Even in the shadows, the black stripe against one finger stands out. Shiro squeezes Keith’s hand. He gives up trying to guess and whispers instead. “What do you need?”

Keith shifts, so abruptly Shiro barely has time to register the movement before Keith is straddling his lap and kissing into him hungrily.  Shiro kisses him back just as intensely, falling into the maelstrom of his husband’s mouth. Keith’s hands are on him, over him, stoking the fires he’d woken from dozing embers and Shiro barely has a chance to take a breath before Keith has dumped his shirt and tugs on their sleep pants, shoving material down enough that he frees both their lengths and then those long, lean fingers are curling around them both. 

“Like this?” he gasps, his own hand covering his husbands. He’s trying to remember where their overnight bag is and if either of them had been optimistic enough to pack any lube but his thoughts keep flitting away and landing on the grip that Keith has around him.  “Baby-“

“Shh,” Keith shushes him a second before letting go, scooting away and hauling the blankets and pillows off the bed to dump them on the floor. It almost looks inviting, or maybe that’s just the man tugging off his clothes until he naked with only the starlight outside to clothe him.

“Keith,” his voice is rough, his husband’s name stuck in his throat. He peels off the last of his clothes and slides onto the pile on the floor, pressing up against Keith’s smooth bare back where he’s rummaging around in something.

Oh. Their bag. 

“We’re going to have to be quiet,” Shiro warns. Keith climbs back into his lap, pressing against him hard enough that he falls backwards.  “Or should I say, _you’re_ going to have to be quiet.”

“I can be quiet,” Keith mutters. His hands start getting greedy. Whatever reservations he’d had before seem to have faded away. Keith seems almost irritated in his determination and Shiro experiences the faintest brush of unease.

Before long, Shiro has enough of Keith’s greedy touch and he uses his strength and larger size to flip his husband onto his back. He grins in the darkness, leaning down to steal a kiss then lower and lower again, sliding all the way down and pressing a light nip against Keith’s bare hip. Keith gasps then twitches, his whole body reacting with a jolt when Shiro works his way closer and finally takes him into his mouth.

“Shiro!”

At the sound of his name, Shiro lets Keith slide out of his mouth and jerks his head up then he’s quickly crawling back up his husband’s body and clasping a hand over his mouth. 

“Baby,” he hisses it even as his ears strain to pick up any sounds of footsteps or movement outside their door. “You have to be quiet.”

Something like a half whine, half sob falls out of Keith’s mouth pressed against his hand. He tries to fix his gaze on Keith’s in the darkness but he can’t see much so he opts for something else instead.

He lowers his voice and tempers it with a hint of command. The same way he would when pulling a wayward cadet into line. “Are you going to be quiet?”

There’s a very minor pause before Keith’s brain seems to catch up. “Yeah,” Keith breathes out as Shiro takes his hand away. Shiro holds his breath, wondering how far he can push this. Roleplay isn’t something they’ve really explored together yet and this probably isn’t the place to do it, but he can’t shake the sense that Keith is looking for a distraction tonight.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

“Yeah,” Keith manages to say again. He’s shifting slightly, a roll of his hips into nothing but air that doesn’t give him any relief. His voice is still too loud. “Fuck, come on, Takashi.”

“Quiet,” Shiro commands, leaning close and breathing the word against Keith’s ear. Keith stills under him, suddenly quiet as a mouse. Even his breathing gets quiet. “Better,” Shiro murmurs.  “Much better.”

“Shiro-“

“Did I say you could talk?”

Keith goes rigid and Shiro gets the distinct impression Keith is calling him all sorts of unpleasant names in his head. It makes him want to laugh even as the heat starts curling heavier in the base of his spine. He lays a kiss against Keith’s shoulder. “There,” he says on a hum. “I knew you could do it.”

Keith makes a slight sound at the back of his throat but he doesn’t protest further, at least not out loud. Shiro’s suddenly grateful for the darkness, the way Keith’s thoughts broadcast across his face right now might make him falter and give in. He slides his hand down Keith’s flank, savouring the way he trembles lightly under his touch. They’ve had so many false starts the last few days, he doesn’t doubt it will take much to bring Keith falling over the edge, just as he knows how on edge he already is. 

This time, he leans over Keith and tries to ignore the slight pinch of discomfort where his bionic arm bears the weight of his body as he props himself up. It’s not too bad, but he wants the warmth of his human hand for this, to be able to feel even the slightest sensations. As advanced as the tech was, it still had limitations.

There’s a fumble in the dark, a soft pop and a click and then a wet slickness over his fingers. He leans in to capture any sounds from Keith’s mouth with a kiss as he curls his hand around them both once again and glides them against each other. There’s hardly any strokes at all before Shiro can feel his climax building and the hungry way Keith kisses up into him hints that he’s not far off either. 

“Come for me, baby,” he manages to say barely a handful of pumps before wet heat splashes against his hand. Keith whimpers under him, and he hushes him through his climax, reminding him to be quiet and kissing him when he gets too loud and then Keith is spent, boneless against the floor as Shiro looms over him, furiously stroking until he spills on a gasp and a rough exhale.

Then he’s too shaky to hold himself upright and he melts down against his husband, his lungs burning as they try to get the air they need.

“I love you,” he says after a moment, when his heart rate has finally fallen back into a normal range.  He presses a kiss to Keith’s shoulder before reaching for a discarded shirt. He can’t tell if it’s his or Keith’s but he doesn’t care, resolving to deal with it in the morning when they can actually see as he cleans them both up and then once he’s done, they pile back onto the bed. 

“I love you,” Keith whispers back at him. “Thank you.”

Shiro tucks him up against his chest. There’s things they obviously need to talk about, but it can wait until the morning.  Everything else can wait until the morning. Right now he just wants to lie beside his husband in peace.


	46. anchor in the waves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still reading along with this fic after so long, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!! I can't tell you what it means to me <333
> 
> ***  
> Possible TW for car accident  
> ***  
> Thank you to team cracktron for your help on this <3

Morning finds them back on the deck, warm mugs of coffee in their hands and a stack of pancakes in the middle of the table. Keith takes a sip of his coffee as Thace regales Shiro with yet another long-forgotten childhood memory. He’s long since given up on trying to hold his uncle back and he’s long past being embarrassed. Shiro sneaks him the odd smirk and runs his eye over him, as though trying to reconcile the bratty kid Thace talks about with the man sitting in front of him. 

“Maybe you save some stories for the next visit,” Keith comments dryly to Thace.

Thace looks over at him with a smile and the light in his eyes is brighter today. Maybe it’s from revisiting memories from years ago when it was the four of them in the house, or maybe because he’d taken the stronger meds in this treatment plans like Keith had insisted on the night before.

Either way, Keith takes it. He’s not ready to lose another uncle yet.

“Perhaps you’re right. We still have Christmas coming up. I’ll try to find Keith’s earliest baby photos for you, Shiro.”

Shiro starts to laugh. “Oh, yeah, I definitely want to see those.”

“We used to wonder if he was part vampire because as a baby his canines came through well before his front teeth. It was… disconcerting.”

Shiro looks Keith over again and Keith bares his teeth at him playfully before he rolls his eyes. It makes Shiro laugh into his drink.

The conversation turns to more mundane things but through almost all of it, Kolivan sits at the head of the table without contributing much. Keith feels the weight of his gaze on him though, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that Kolivan is cataloguing and assessing any interaction between himself and his husband. It should probably bother him, but he finds it surprisingly easy to ignore when he has Shiro’s laughter and Thace’s deep voice to focus on.

When they go back inside, Keith finds Kolivan tucked away in his study in the corner of one end of the house. He shuts the door behind him and turns to his uncle with a query that’s been on his mind for days. He gives Kolivan a brief run down of what happened before crossing his arms and leaning back against the door.

“Are any of your old unit still working in the police force?”

Keith was bracing for a sharper reaction from his uncle but the only sign of concern is the slight pursing of his lips. It makes the old scar on his cheek go taut with the action.

“Why do you want to know?” Kolivan finally answers him.

“Because I think she’s mixed up in something shady and I thought… If I can just get her to talk to someone, someone who can actually help, then maybe we’ll get somewhere.”

“I’ve told you to stay away from her. All of them, but especially her.”

“You also told me that family is important. That it’s worth fighting for.”

“She’s not your family,” Kolivan snaps harshly.  Keith doesn’t flinch.

“She’s blood.”

“Family is more than what runs in your veins, Keith. You of all people should know that.”

Keith’s jaw works silently as his uncle stares him down. He knows what Kolivan is trying to say but he also knows he can’t turn his back on his half-sisters. He just can’t.

“I just need to know if any of your old unit are still on the force,” he tries again. Just once he’d like to talk to Kolivan without it devolving into a battle of wills. He doesn’t want to back down on this, partly because he’s stubborn and petulant even as he tries to tell himself he’s not, but he also doesn’t want to be caught unawares if Ezor comes sniffing around again.

Kolivan goes still.  “Regris,” he finally offers.  “Regris and Ulaz. They can help you.”

Inwardly, Keith releases a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you,” he says earnestly as Kolivan hands over their contact details.  It’s a start.  He’ll talk to them, see if they’ve heard anything or if they might have any idea what his half-sister was trying to warn him of and he’ll be confident in the knowledge that both of these men will know to keep enquires quiet.  Keith won’t be shy about evoking the name of their former commander to do it either.

He’s about the leave the room when Kolivan stops him. “Keith, there’s one more thing.” 

“Yeah?”

“It’s time I gave you this.”

Keith stares hard at the tightly closed fist Kolivan holds out towards him. His uncle has big, solid hands and they completely conceal what he is holding.

“What is it?” Keith asks, pausing for a heartbeat in trepidation before reaching out to take what Kolivan offers. Kolivan opens his fist and a light silver chain falls into Keith’s palm.

A light silver chain that catches the sunlight, and two boxy tags attached to it.

He recognises what it is before he even lays eyes on it. He’d touched ones similar just a day or so ago. His heart starts to beat a faster tempo in his chest when he unfurls his fingers and looks down.  The words there, the _K. Kogane_ etched into the metal suddenly offers him more questions than answers.

“They were your mother’s,” Kolivan tells him quietly.

This…. This doesn’t quite compute. Of all the scenarios he’d imagined in his mind to explain away his mother’s absence in his life, her being a part of the garrison didn’t factor in even once. 

Stupid now that he thinks about it.

Of course, she would have been attached to the garrison or the military in some shape or form.  _Of course_ the garrison would have it’s sticky fingers even in this part of his past.  He couldn’t escape it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Keith demands harshly. His mind is whirling. 

“I kept it from you because I didn’t want you to know the truth. I didn’t want you to find her. But with these-“ Kolivan looks sorrowful enough that Keith almost wants to give them back.  “You might.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro stands beside Thace in the lounge. Kolivan has pulled Keith away for a moment so for now, it’s just Shiro and Thace and a million of Thace’s memories.

“Keith has always been wired a little differently,” Thace muses as he points out a young Keith in one of the many frames lining the shelf. “He’s never been someone who seeks out the comfort of others readily. He’s never had a large circle of friends, he’s always been somewhat apart, always on the edges but it never seemed to bother him. It bothered me for a long time. I thought maybe it was us. That we had failed him. But I see him with you now, Shiro, and it’s the happiest I’ve seen him in a very long time. I honestly could not ask for anything more than that.”

The warmth from Thace makes the air catch inside Shiro’s lungs. It touches him deep inside and he leans into the kinship he finds with Thace. Two men who both love a messy haired boy.

Except Keith’s not a boy anymore.

“I love him,” Shiro says simply. He likes the way it rings out so clearly. He takes such strength in it.

“Does he feel the same?” Thace asks but the way he smiles at Shiro tells him he already knows the answer. Shiro can’t help the way his lips curve upwards happily.

“He’s told me he does. Keith doesn’t seem like the type to joke around about that kind of thing.”

Thace tilts his head in agreement. “No, he certainly isn’t.”

“What did you think when he first told you about the experiment?” Shiro finally ventures to ask.  He’s curious to know, if a little wary. Thace grows thoughtful.

“We were… concerned,” Thace says. “It seems like such a huge thing to put in the hands of strangers. How do you create a bond between two people with just a few tests without testing the physical aspect too?”

“It was more than a few tests,” Shiro replies. “There were _months_ of tests and interviews.”

“Yes, I remember Keith getting pulled away to complete them every few weeks. We tried not to worry. Keith assured us it was unlikely he would be one of the handful chosen so we put it out of our minds.”

“But then he was picked. For me,” Shiro murmurs.

“And then the wedding date was set and suddenly it all felt very real. But Keith- Keith surprised us. He was determined to see it through. It felt strange to me, to enter into a partnership so binding without even meeting first. A lifetime compatibility is more than biochemistry and test scores. Love, especially, is more than that. We worried for him.”

“I’m pretty sure we’d both be lying if we said we didn’t have the same thoughts,” Shiro says, thinking back to the nerve wracking weeks leading up to the wedding. “I wasn’t sure if reality could ever match up what was on paper.”

“Well, you certainly proved us all wrong. And while it’s been an unconventional way to meet, the people that matched you obviously knew what they were about. As far as how-did-you-meet stories go, you can’t top what you have,” Thace chuckles.

“And how did you meet Kolivan and Antok?”

“That’s not a story for polite company.”

“Who said I was polite?” Shiro grins and Thace lets out a sharp bark of laughter. 

“Well, let’s just say the details are hazy and the first time I didn’t even know their names. I’ll leave it at that.”

“Oh,” Shiro struggles to hide his surprise and fails. He coughs delicately into his hand. “Oh, and then it was love, just like that?”

“Just like that. Much like you and Keith, I imagine.”

Shiro has a flash of memory, of Keith walking up the aisle towards him, the glow of the sun at his back. It had been an instant snap and connection even if he hadn’t wanted to admit it at the time. It was a breath of fresh air and his soul sighed and said _there he is, we’ve been waiting for you_.

How lucky were they that they had made their commitment to each other right there and then.

Thace chuckles again, patting Shiro on his shoulder with a firm hand.  “May you love each other always,” Thace says as he turns to go back into the kitchen. Shiro is left alone in the lounge. 

Shiro trails his eyes back over the framed photos. His gaze falls one of a younger Keith with his hands shoved in his pockets and a red cap pulled down on his head. He’s half smiling at the camera, probably no more than fifteen or so and Shiro runs the math in his head. This was taken only a year before his world would be turned upside down by the arrival of his sisters and the start of Antok’s illness. His chest pangs at the thought. Did Keith have the same dreams before that happened? Had he held onto them when everything else was falling apart like Shiro had with his? Or had he let himself go with the current? 

One day he’ll ask him.

Keith finds him a short time later, marching straight across the room and into his chest, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s waist and leaning against him hard enough Shiro almost needs to step back under the force of him. He grunts softly at the impact.

“Ah, you okay?” Shiro asks. He rubs a hand over Keith’s back as Keith lets out a loud huff and pulls back. He doesn’t quite meet Shiro’s eyes as he pushes up onto his toes to steal a quick kiss and then he releases Shiro all together, stepping backwards and putting space between them again. He shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. 

“I want to go,” Keith says. Shiro can see the tightness in his jaw.

“Ready when you are, babe.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro pulls the car over to the side of the road, following the directions Keith was giving him quietly from the passenger seat. He peers through the glass.

“Where are we?” Shiro asks, looking around.  It’s an older neighbourhood, a mix of industrial and older style apartment complexes with a lot of concrete and not many trees. Keith unclips his seatbelt and slides out with a rough shrug.

“My place. I just want to get the box. Won’t be long.”

“Whoa, wait,” Shiro reaches out to grab his husband’s wrist before he can duck out of the car completely. “This is your place?”

“Yeah,” Keith says and it’s kind of a grimace. “Lance was right, it’s a dump.”

“Let me come up with you,” Shiro pleads. There’s indecision on Keith’s face.  Shiro tries for a smile. “I’ve seen your toddler photos; how much worse can this be?”

In spite of himself, Keith laughs and Shiro grins in triumph. Whatever indecision Keith had been harbouring disappears instantly and before long they are climbing out of the car and heading up the path. Keith leads them to the entrance of the apartment block and up the stairs, climbing up a few levels until Keith finally pauses outside a door.  He fumbles with some keys in his pocket before unlocking it and stepping inside with Shiro on his heels.

Shiro wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t as bad as Keith made it out to be. 

“This is cosy,” he says with a grin as he looks around. It’s an older style apartment, resplendent with its mismatched and dated furniture but it’s neat. Keith rubs the back of his neck.

“It’s okay, I guess,” he shrugs.  “The box is in the bedroom. Through here.”

Keith crosses the small living space and Shiro trails after him. The bedroom still has sheets on the bed, slightly rumpled and the air is heavy from being closed up for so long.  Keith moves to the side of the bed and takes their memory box off the bedside table.

“Got it,” he announces, holding it up in one hand. “Can we get out of here now?”

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Shiro asks. He snags Keith’s wrist as he tries to duck past.

“I don’t know, it just feels… weird. To be here. With you.”

Shiro considers that. He glances around again, looking for the signs of Keith in the furnishings, in the décor. Little things that would signify that this space is more than just a place to lay his head, that it was home for him. But it’s not.

“What are you going to do with this place?” Shiro asks. Keith shrugs. He looks down at the box in his hands and runs one hand over the lid. It’s a soft caress, overshadowed by soft thoughts. Shiro wonders if he’s remembering their honeymoon when he touches the box like that, the way they started to fall in love so easily with each other. He certainly is. 

“I was going to hold onto it,” Keith confesses. “In case things went pear-shaped after the eight weeks was up.”

Shiro appreciates his honesty. He’s not all that surprised by the revelation. “I get that,” he says quietly. Keith shoots him a troubled glance.

“You’re not… upset? I get how this must look.”

“How it looks?”

“Yeah,” Keith says, his expression turns a little bit fierce.  “Like I have one foot out the door-“

“No,” Shiro interrupts. He smiles ruefully and runs a hand over the back of his husband’s hair then lays it against Keith’s shoulder and offer a slight squeeze. “I would have done the same thing. What we’re doing, it’s a scary thing. It might have fallen apart before it even started. Nothing wrong with keeping something in reserve.”

Keith’s eyes glitter as they look up at him. He’s been on edge ever since they’d left his uncles house and Shiro could only guess at why. He tells himself he needs to trust that Keith will open up when he’s ready, that he’s only waiting for the right time. Just like he is.

“I can get rid of it now though, break the lease,” Keith says softly, dragging Shiro’s thoughts away from the garrison offer and the way it’s looming over him. Keith’s simple statement makes Shiro’s heart thud in his chest. He smiles and steals a light kiss, thinking again how lucky he is to have found this. The gratitude might never fade and he’s okay with that.

In fact, he’s counting on it.

Keith presses into him, the box between them and for a long moment, Shiro lets himself enjoy this. It feels like his life is starting to boil down to these tender moments, snatches of warmth and affection between himself and Keith and each one fuels him for the challenge of taking on the rest of the world. He hums lightly when Keith rises up to take another kiss and Shiro meets him eagerly.

“Well, if you’re going to get rid of it, maybe we should have one last hurrah,” he murmurs after a little bit. His blood is hot. He trails his lips over the side of Keith’s cheek. Neither of them had bothered to shave that morning, and light stubble was already starting to show. “We could christen it and say goodbye all at once.”

Keith takes a moment to chase Shiro’s lips with his own and he leans into it enough that the dragging heat between them makes him almost drop the box from his hand.

“No,” he gasps softly when he breaks their kiss. He’s slightly breathless and Shiro feels the same.

“No?”

“No,” Keith says again, this time more firmly.  “I want to go home. I want to go home and… and I want you in _our_ room, in _our_ bed.”

“There you go,” Shiro laughs softly. He tightens the arms around him. “I knew you’d get there eventually.”

 

* * *

 

Half the day has gone by the time they’re back in the car and headed home once again. Keith holds the memory box in his lap for a part of the trip, flipping it open at one point to trawl through it’s contents as Shiro drives. Each little piece inside represents a part of their short but meaningful history together and Keith never wants to forget a moment.

Eventually he shuts the lid and slides it into the car’s narrow back seat as Shiro flicks through the songs on one of his playlists and Keith recognises the first song Shiro lets play as something he’s heard Shiro sing in the shower a few times before.

“Oh, no,” he half laugh, half groans. Shiro’s face is wide open with a grin and he waggles his eyebrows at Keith suggestively as he starts to sing along. “No, stop,” Keith pretends to stick his fingers in his ears and it only makes Shiro sing louder and more dramatically, an occasional jaunty hand movement thrown in for emphasis.  “You’re terrible,” Keith laughs at him but it only makes Shiro ham it up some more.

“Come on, Keith. Live a little,” Shiro grins at him.

Keith suffers through the first song but as the next one starts to play, his eyes narrow and he sits up a little straighter in his seat. “Wait a minute, did Lance put you up to this?”

Shiro interrupts his boisterous rendition of _ain’t no mountain high enough_ long enough to turn down the volume so that they can speak normally in the confines of the car.  “What? What do you mean?”

“This song,” Keith crosses his arms over his chest and eyes Shiro suspiciously. He tries to study the side of Shiro’s face as he drives for any clues that his husband and best friend might be teaming up to mess with him. Shiro shakes his head.

“No, I haven’t been talking to Lance.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” It sounds like Shiro is more than amused at Keith’s doubtful tone. Keith can’t help it, he wouldn’t put anything past Lance, especially if meant trolling him somehow.  Irritating Keith was Lance’s lifelong mission. “I haven’t been talking to Lance. Not about music choices anyway,” Shiro adds.

“Because I’m pretty sure that might be grounds for a divorce if that was the case,” Keith lifts his chin slightly but his lips twitch enough that even out of the corner of his eye Shiro will know he’s not serious.

Shiro’s interest is piqued. “You need to fill me in on that, baby.”

Keith’s eyes widen. His memory flashes back to a hazy night in a bar, extremely drunk and slurring into a microphone with Lance’s arm slung around his shoulder. He wished he could say it was a once off event but it was an occurrence that unfortunately repeated itself every year. 

Why Lance couldn’t just let him buy him a lap dance for his birthday like a normal person, Keith will never understand but no, Lance insisted Keith show his love and devotion with goddamn karaoke in front of a room full of people. Fuck Karaoke. Fuck Lance, too.

“Ah, no.”

“No? Keith, come on. Don’t make me pull over and force it out of you.”

“Maybe you should ask Lance,” Keith mutters on a huff. He hunches down a little in his seat.

“Maybe I should,” Shiro answers with a sly glance. “He does seem to like me better than you these days. At the wedding he even told me I was his hero-“

“Takashi, you’re so lucky you’re driving right now or I’d kick your ass.”

“Kiss? Did you say kiss, Keith? Because as soon as we get home I’d _love_ for you to do that-“

Keith swears under his breath as Shiro laughs to himself but it’s pure exasperation and without any real kind of irritation. The visit home to see his uncles had left him with a roller coaster of thoughts and emotions to wade through. They were deep enough to drag him under.

They would have, if not for Shiro.

Keith slides his husband a look, admiring the line of his jaw and the shifting curve of his lips as he continues to sing along to the music. He does it under his breath now but when he catches Keith watching him out of the corner of one eye, he offers a salacious wink and his voice gets a little louder.  Keith doesn’t fight the gooey warmth that curls around him as he indulges in a rush of emotion towards his husband.

He loves this man more powerfully than all the stars in the night sky.

He leans forward, reaching for the dash controls and selects a song of his own. The answering smile Shiro gives him when he realises Keith’s intentions make his grin impossibly wide. Shiro is utterly delighted when Keith lets himself relax enough to start singing along, a little shyly at first, then with more gusto until they’re almost belting out a duet and his face feels funny from laughing and his eyes get kind of wet.

“I love you,” Shiro tells him in a break between songs and laughter. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Keith grins at him, and it’s another little moment he knows he won’t ever forget.

A little later, traffic on the highway starts to slow to a crawl, then it comes to a complete stop all together. There’s barely enough time for the music to be dialled down low and for the laughter to fall away before the harsh sound of sirens rise and falls as police cars streak past them on the outside emergency lanes.

Keith swivels, trying to see if he can make out the familiar shape of one of their rigs following and frowning when there’s not. Nothing else follows through, just rows of cars banking up behind them.

“Shiro,” he says tightly, glancing back towards the police cars in the distance. A lump of unease sits heavy in his gut. “Can you follow them?”

Shiro glances at him, his mouth turned downwards into a tight line.

“I’m sure the police have this under control, Keith.”

“No,” Keith turns again in his seat but there’s still no follow up vehicles. There should be. It wasn’t a police pursuit; the traffic had been halted which gave him a pretty good guess that there was an accident up ahead. 

Keith can feel the urgency starting to curl around his throat and he can’t quite get his words out.  Something in his face makes Shiro frown and without questioning further, he’s pulling his black sportscar into the emergency lane and putting his foot down. They see the flashing lights on the barricaded police cars at the same time.

Behind them, another vehicle smashed on its side, tendrils of pale smoke curling upwards into the sky.

Shiro slams the brakes as an officer steps out in front of them, hand raised and yelling.

“Whoa! Stop, you can’t be here!”

“I’m a paramedic,” Keith calls out, kicking his door open and unbuckling his seatbelt before the car has come to a complete stop. He lurches when he hits the ground but then he’s running towards the wreck, the first police officer on his heels.

“Who’s this guy?” another officer demands as Keith arrives on scene. The car is already smoking and inside he can see the frightened face of the driver. Blood covers half her face and he realises abruptly he’s severely hampered without the support of a teammate or a rig at his back.

And his kit. Shit! His kit is still in Shiro’s car.

“I’m a paramedic,” he throws out again. “I can help!”

He knows he doesn’t look the part right now, in black jeans and a black shirt.  An insidious thought lurks at his mind’s edges: _at least it won’t show the blood_.

“Oh, thank fuck,” the officer replies with a rush.  “There’s a crew coming but they’re too far out-“

There’s a loud pop then something orange flickers under the hood of the car. It’s almost chaos as the officers leap into action, Keith pummelling into the fray and they’re kicking at the windshield, yanking on the doors, something, _anything_ to get the vehicle open and pull out the occupant.

The smoke gets thicker and the flames start to lick higher and the fear sets in.

“Jesus,” one of the officers coughs. “We’re not going to be able to get her out in time-“

Keith drops to his knees, kneeling in the dirt beside the upturned car.  The driver is held in place by her belt and she’s starting to cry.  If he could, he’d reach through the glass to take her hand.

“Hey,” he yells through the crumpled spaces of the car. The heat begins to beat against him and the hot air burns his nose.  Above him, the shouts and yells of the police officers working desperately at the car ring out. There’s a lurch of the vehicle that almost has him exhaling in relief but it’s short lived.  The woman in the car lets out a sob.  She’s starting to panic.  Keith forces a smile to his face, makes his tone reassuring. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll get you out. What’s your name?”

Her eyes are wide, too wide as they flicker towards the hood of the car. More flames lick, the officers sound more frantic, their yelling more forceful.

_“It’s gonna go up!”_

_“Get away!”_

The panic in her eyes claws at him.  The heat intensifies and he starts to cough. Fuck, they might… they might not make this.  _Where the fuck is the backup?!_

The thought barely has a moment to form before a solid mass is hauling Keith out of the way and throwing him into the dirt a small distance away. He catches sight of silver and black and there’s more shouting even as he coughs and his eyes water from the fumes.  His eyes sting but he forces them open anyway, the panic of a second ago replaced by something else as equally terrifying when he makes out the shape of his husband amongst the wreck. The wreck that was about to blow any second.

Shiro stands over the car like an avenging angel, his face set in hard planes and his bionic hand on a clump of crushed metal, flames licking in earnest around his wrists and along his side. Keith can see the single breath he takes as he braces, then Shiro reefs the door off the car and flings it away. The smoke tries to wrap around him tighter and for a heart stopping moment Keith loses sight of him.

It’s not until later, once the EMT rig arrived and Keith was able to stumble back from the patient to let the real crew take over, once the flames had been dimmed under white foam, that he’s able to seek out his husband.

Keith finds him surrounded by police officers.

Their eyes are wide with curiosity and something that might look like apprehension. The sleeve of Shiro’s henley is rolled up, exposing the smooth tech of his prosthetic and there’s a tight wariness to his expression that alerts Keith instantly to his unease. 

It softens the instant he sees Keith.

“Keith, where did you find this guy? That was amazing!” a younger officer exclaims. Keith blinks at the familiarity of his name, before realising he’s come across this police officer before on previous jobs. He doesn’t remember his name but he looks familiar.

“Yeah,” his partner joins in. She’s looking up at Shiro with admiration shining in her eyes. Keith is torn between annoyance and pride.

“I’m _married_ to him,” he informs them curtly. Ice drips from his tone as he shoves his way through the small crowd.  He doesn’t like seeing Shiro surrounded like this and he likes the disquiet in Shiro’s gaze even less.  “Give him some fucking room!”

“Jesus, man. Ease up will you,” another officer says with a roll of their eyes. This one Keith definitely doesn’t know and he has to swallow back his retort.  Trigel’s voice sounds in his head. _We have to work with these guys every day, Keith. Don’t make it harder than it needs to be. And don’t antagonize them!_

He lays his hand on the small of Shiro’s back and stares up into his eyes.  “Are you okay?”

It’s a simple enough question but the answer is more than complicated. Shiro bites the inside of his cheek, as though trying to hold back something, or fight through something and the tightness on his jaw hints at more than just a physical unease over the sudden attention on his arm. Keith’s gaze snaps down and he lifts up Shiro’s prosthetic hand and lays it in his palm to run his fingertips over the black silicone like substance of the bionic tech. He can hear the officers still talking behind him, but he ignores their chatter, focusing solely on his husband.

“I’m okay,” Shiro answers but it’s subdued and shaky enough that Keith doesn’t quite believe it.  Keith lowers Shiro’s artificial hand and moves onto his other one, exhaling softly at the singed hair on his forearm and the bloody tear on the fleshy side of his palm where he must have caught it on a sharp edge of shrapnel.

“Wait here,” Keith instructs, a light squeeze against Shiro’s bicep before he grabs his kit and returns to Shiro’s side. They don’t talk as he gently cleans and wraps Shiro’s injured hand in a bandage. Not until Shiro whispers low enough that only Keith could possibly hear him.

“Looking after me again,” he says. There’s a hint of bitterness there that tugs at Keith’s heart.

Keith secures the bandage deftly, years of practice making quick work of the job then he lifts Shiro’s fingers to his lips and kisses them gently. “As many times as it takes.”

No one tries to stop them when they head back to the car and Keith slides into the driver’s seat.

“I didn’t know I could do that,” Shiro says ruefully, staring down at his metallic hand, flexing it open and shut.  It seems like an absent-minded gesture, as though he’s thinking of other things but Keith knows he’s not. He knows that sharp downturn to his lip originates solely from the tech attached to his body.

“If you hadn’t been there, that might have been a very different outcome,” Keith answers as he steers. They’d been lucky. So lucky, that Shiro had been in the vicinity. And not just that he was there, that he’d risked so much to charge in. The emergency crews were already calling him a hero, even as they side eyed his arm, faint twists of whispers curling at the edges like buzzing drones.  They were impressed for now, but how long until they became wary, and then afraid. Would they try to come for Shiro’s arm? Thinking it some kind of weapon?

Keith’s fingers tighten involuntarily around the steering wheel at the thought.

They don’t end up singing on the drive home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, I love hearing your thoughts on this story. please leave a comment or come chat to me on the [ [BLOG] ](https://sheithmafsau.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> Oh, and if you are interested in their careoke playlist in the car, you can find it [ [HERE] ](https://open.spotify.com/user/kittymills16/playlist/2ILPdnZLocpT2jX4vAC4Yi?si=-hmGO5k1Q_uvp80F9aa3CA)


	47. take a second, baby, slow it down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh soo um, I'm pretty sure my brain still isn't firing right after S6 so here's some nsfw fluff as promised for these boys (also as as peace offering since I've taken a little break & been slow to update)

The water’s spray is warm but not quite warm enough to chase away the chill that seems to have taken up residence in the deepest parts of Keith’s heart. Shiro was quiet on the drive home and he was quieter still as they slammed the car doors shut in the garage and trudged up the stairs to be greeted by Black’s soulful golden eyes in the kitchen. Shiro scoops him up, burying his face in the cat’s glossy black coat and scratching behind his ears lovingly.

Keith’s eyes narrow at the way his husband seems to be favouring one side but he knows Shiro well enough now that Shiro is trying to downplay it. And that means he doesn’t want attention drawn to his arm, or the events that happened on their drive home.

Keith’s not sure how to respond, the medic in him considers sitting Shiro down and strapping his shoulder and administering pain relief, but the lover in him just wants to smooth away the hurt with kisses and soft words.

It’s an effort but he manages to settle somewhere in the middle.

“Are you sore?” he asks Shiro quietly, once Black has been deposited onto the ground and his bowl refilled with kibble. The cat’s automatic feeder was useful but Black always seemed to prefer the personal touch when they were at home. Shiro won’t meet his eye as he carries over a fresh bowl of water and places it down next to Black’s head.

“A little,” Shiro finally answers.

“I’m not surprised,” Keith answers. His memory skips back over the last few hours. The force Shiro needed to pull that crumbled bit of metal away was more than just the tech of his artificial arm. Some of it was muscle and sheer adrenaline too.

Shiro stands in the kitchen, near the sink as Black chops away at his food. He watches the cat eat but Keith gets the sense he’s not really seeing Black at all. Perhaps his mind is still back at the crash scene.

Keith knows his is.

He makes his way to Shiro’s side, no longer willing to hold back.  He’s not going to let Shiro work through this alone. The memory of the police officers wary faces skitter through his mind.

“Hey,” he says softly and Shiro turns.  Keith presses into him, aligning his warmth against his husband’s, willing Shiro to accept it.  He runs a practiced hand over Shiro’s arm, over the metal and over the sleeve. He wants to tug away the material of Shiro’s shirt but he’ll wait until they’re upstairs before he does that. He skims his hand higher, over Shiro’s bicep and the corded muscles of his neck and fights back a frown at the tension there.

Shiro feels far too rigid under his touch so he plants a kiss against Shiro’s throat, right over his pulse. It flutters under his mouth. Shiro smells like smoke and sweat and Keith knows he doesn’t smell much better after their eventful drive home. He hopes the fine layer of soot that lines their skin isn’t toxic.

“Come on,” he says as he tangles their fingers together. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

“Yeah,” Shiro says but he doesn’t sound convinced.  Then he repeats the word with more conviction and a nod.

Keith is relieved when Shiro gives his hand a squeeze and follows him upstairs and into their bathroom without any argument. He makes short work of stripping them of their clothes and leading them under the spray. Shiro lets the water flow over his face and Keith watches as with every drop, the tension that coils in Shiro’s muscles seems to ease. When Shiro opens his eyes again, he flicks his dripping hair away from his face and smiles.

It takes Keith a full moment to recover from the force of that smile.

“I love you,” Keith tells him. The soft sound of the water hitting the tiles almost drowns out his voice but Shiro still hears it. Or maybe he can read it on Keith’s face just like he can everything else. Shiro cups his cheek and offers him a quick brush of the lips.

“I love you too.”

Keith sighs as Shiro rubs shampoo into his hair. He promptly returns the favour, tugging gently on Shiro’s head to give him the right height to do what he needs. The water briefly runs dark from the soot. When Keith’s hair is wet and slicked back from his face, Shiro captures his chin. He stares into Keith’s eyes and Keith can see the thoughts turning over. He looks… troubled.

“You didn’t even hesitate,” Shiro says. It’s hard to read the tone of his voice. It’s half wonder, half reprimand. “You just ran straight for it.”

“It’s my job,” Keith shrugs. It’s not a big deal, it’s what he’s been trained to do. Along with every other first response officer. He drags his fingers through his wet hair and wipes the water from his face, already mentally moving on from the subject.

“It’s fearless.”

Keith’s lips turn downwards into a frown. “You think I wasn’t scared?”

“Were you?”

“Yes,” it falls out of him with a breathless laugh. “I was terrified.”

Terrified, but he does it anyway. Like he said, it’s his job.

Keith reaches for Shiro’s bionic arm, holding the tech palm up. He traces one finger down his forearm and over his palm, much like he did on their wedding night. He’d looked over it quickly before they’d left the scene of the crash and it didn’t appear to have any signs of damage but he makes a mental note to ask Hunk to look it over later anyway. 

A new frown steals over his lips. “Shiro, if you hadn’t been there-“

He’s surprised when Shiro clenches his metallic hand and pulls away. It almost feels like a rebuff, except then his husband coils around him, pulling him so tightly against his chest the water pools between their bodies before leaking away. Shiro’s lips find his, abruptly needy and insistent and one wide palm drags over the lower part of his back.

Keith gives Shiro a moment of greed, letting him take what he needs from his lips before Shiro sends his hungry mouth marching along Keith’s jaw, hard and possessive. It’s more aggressive than Keith is used to from his husband but the need already curling inside him flames upwards and he meets Shiro’s urgency with a bone deep hunger of his own.

Shiro shudders his name into his hair before curling his metal hands amongst the wet strands. Keith winces slightly at the pull, Shiro tugging his head back to expose his throat. Shiro works on the skin there, kissing and sucking and baring his teeth against Keith’s neck. It’s probably going to leave a mark, it will probably be awkward to have those bruises for the world to see but Keith doesn’t care.

He closes his eyes against the bright light of the bathroom and revels in the feel of Shiro’s mouth on him. There’s so much strength there, so much warmth.  He drags his own hand upwards, over the tight muscles of Shiro’s chest, splaying his fingers wide over Shiro’s pectorals, savouring the heightened thrum of his husband’s heart under his palm.

It’s his. All his. All his, because Shiro loves him.

“Shiro,” he gasps out. “Let’s go to bed. Please-“

The onslaught from Shiro’s mouth and hands, the heavy brand of him against Keith’s hip under the spray of the water is too much.  He needs more than the shower can give them. 

He wants to take his time. He’s said the words out loud, they both have now, but he’s yet to truly show Shiro how much he means to him. He nuzzles against Shiro’s cheek, eyes closed as he memorizes every touch and stroke. The ferocious grip Shiro has on him eases slightly, it’s still hungry, but not ravenous.  An aching need curls in his gut.  “Let me love you properly,” he says softly, just a breath lost in the steam.

Shiro hears it though. Like he always does. Keith barely has to think the thought and Shiro’s already captured it and tucked it inside himself.  He raises his head and the expression in his eyes makes Keith inhale. Keith can see the longing there, the need. The _yearning._ He knows what Shiro wants, he knows what his husband has been aching for but has been too concerned with Keith’s own needs to fulfil. Keith wants to rectify that. He wants to give Shiro everything he wants and he tells him as much as he flicks off the water and leads them still damp to their bed.

Shiro sighs as he lies back and once again Keith is struck by the beauty of him. His pale skin might still bear the scars from the crash, and his bionic arm gleams in the afternoon light leaking in from the window. He’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

His beautiful avenging angel.

The memory of Shiro hauling off the car door makes his throat dry. The sheer ferociousness on his face had been breathtaking and terrifying all at once. Shiro had lifted it with barely any effort, ignoring the flames that crept so close. He’d saved them. He was a hero.

Keith leans down to kiss him, stealing a grateful kiss from the lips of the man he loves so much. It still amazes him, it still makes him blink in awe and a dizzying gratitude that Shiro could love him. Sometimes the thought is too overwhelming and he needs to catch his breath.

He takes one last kiss before he nudges Shiro gently to lie on his stomach. He glides his palm down Shiro’s spine once Shiro has settled comfortably into the mattress. Shiro turns his head, one cheek against an ivory pillow. His gaze is slightly shadowed and Keith runs a hand over Shiro’s lower back once again.

“This okay?” Keith asks quietly.

Shiro’s mouth quirks up in a half smile but he doesn’t lift his head. Keith can see how unsettled he still is, a faint sheen of something that looks like pain behind his eyes, maybe even worry. Keith is a little worried too but he knows whatever happens, whatever comes from today, they will face it together. 

He presses a kiss to Shiro’s shoulder, his skin still damp and warm from the shower. He tastes like sunshine, clean and fresh now that the smoke and soot has been washed away and Shiro hums softly as Keith’s hands slide warmly over his body.

He takes his time. They don’t need to rush.

“I want you,” Shiro whispers, eyes drooping closed and exhaling deeply under Keith’s touch. Each release of breath sinks him deeper into the mattress and Keith rubs at the muscles of his shoulders to soothe away any lingering discomfort there.

“I want you too,” Keith says with another kiss. He shifts then, sliding onto his knees and further down the bed to throw a leg over Shiro’s thigh. He straddles Shiro’s back, leaning down to kiss over the scarred lattice of his skin gently. With each kiss, his hands move too, dragging down Shiro’s body until Shiro gasps softly at his touch. “I want you so much. I want to make this good for you.”

Keith rocks back then, shuffling further down. He drags his hand lower, over Shiro’s backside, kneading gently before delving between his cheeks lightly, just a brush of a slicked fingertip as he mouths soft _I love you’s_ into Shiro’s skin.

Shiro moans softly as he does so.  “Yeah, Keith. Please -“

Keith can feel the shudder that rolls through Shiro’s body, each tremor taking away some of the tension that makes his muscles like steel. Keith shifts again, just enough that his own heat nestles softly in Shiro’s crease and he can’t help a roll of his hips, and then another. It feels so good, too good, and by the third slide, they’re both panting. Keith forces himself away, dropping instead between Shiro’s knees and nudging them open to have Shiro spread before him.

It sends a fierce thrill through him. His beautiful, strong, capable husband on his stomach with his back beautifully arched. Shiro’s prosthetic is aligned beside him on one side, his other hand tucked under the pillow under his head. The urgency to rush isn’t there. Not like it has been in their previous times. It feels a little different now, lazy, kind of slow. Deep. They’ve consumed each other so often the past few days but the desire to join together is as strong as ever. 

Keith lifts Shiro’s hips, just enough to have Shiro shuddering into the sheets and clenching his thighs.  There’s the slight grimace on his face, a little line between his brow that Keith hasn’t seen before and he realises how vulnerable Shiro must feel like this. He doesn’t move though. He trusts Keith to make it good. To make him take what Keith has to offer.

Keith drags his hands up Shiro’s thighs and then over, each hand capturing a globe of his ass. He spreads them as he kisses his way down Shiro’s back and further still. Shiro shudders when Keith finds him, his wet mouth teasing over his entrance. The small sounds that spill from him egg Keith on, and he eventually probes enough with his tongue that an actual whimper falls out of Shiro’s mouth.

It’s not a sound he’s heard from him before and he relishes it.

“That’s it, Takashi,” Keith whispers. He loves the effect Shiro’s birthname has on his tongue. Shiro moans again, a weak little sound that tells him how thoroughly Shiro has surrendered to him.  There’s that fierce pride and wonder again, washing over him when he remembers that his man is his, to have and to hold forever and the love he has for him makes him close his eyes for a moment, his forehead pressed against Shiro’s back.

It’s not until Shiro stumbles out his name that he draws back.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers and the words press up against Shiro’s breathless chants.  _Keith, baby, Keith._

Keith finally eases a finger inside, one hand low on the back of Shiro’s spine circling soothingly as he presses deeper. Shiro sighs, another heavy exhale on parted lips and Keith leans forward to press yet another soft kiss to his back, letting his hair fall forward to brush along Shiro’s skin.

“I love you,” he whispers hoarsely and Shiro’s response is a soft gasp and to rock back against Keith’s hand. He lets Shiro set the pace, his heartrate picking up wildly. His body aches and throbs with need but he ignores it, focused solely on the man in front of him. He promised he would make this good for Shiro. And he would.  He was going to show Shiro how much those three words meant to him.

Keith withdraws his hand slightly, then strokes back in with another finger. He relishes the soft sounds Shiro makes and he coaxes him open softly. It’s mesmerizing watching the play of need and pleasure scroll over his husband’s face. Shiro is well versed at keeping his expressions in check, not giving away too much but under Keith’s hands, all that falls away. 

He’s beautiful, so beautiful. Keith can hardly breathe.

Shiro bucks against his hand again, the slight lift of his hips and then the shift of his arm as he tries to snake it down between him and the sheets, trying to find some kind of relief. Keith is tempted to stop him but he lets Shiro move enough to do what he needs.

It’s worth it to hear the sounds that fall from his mouth as Shiro rocks into his palm, taking Keith’s fingers with him.

“God, Shiro,” Keith savours the motion, the play as Shiro lifts himself onto his knees without prompting, his face and shoulders still pressed into the bed. Shiro is hard and heavy and leaking and the soft gasps, the soft whimper of Keith’s name on his lips make Keith’s blood heat until he’s not sure he can contain it for much longer.

“Keith, Keith I need-“ Shiro’s almost incoherent, he’s trembling and dazed, weak from the way he fucks himself on Keith’s hand.  Keith curls his fingers and the sound of Shiro muffled shout almost kills him.

“Fuck,” Keith has to bite his lip against the curses on his tongue. It’s an assault on the senses, Shiro’s body around his hands, the rough gasps pouring from his mouth.

His utter surrender.

Keith slicks himself down one handed, running his hand over his own length once, twice, before slowly drawing back his fingers. Shiro protests weakly but he knows what’s coming next. He’s eager, hot and desperate as any thought to draw out a tease as Keith lines himself up flies out the window.  Shiro pushes back with a frustrated growl when he pauses too long and it’s Keith’s undoing.  The urgency creeps up and steals over him until Keith is finally buried inside his husband, gasping as Shiro’s body grips him like a vice. 

Keith swears softly, clutching tightly to Shiro’s hips as he adjusts to the heat around him, the grip and the tightness. He struggles to calm his breathing. It’s good, it’s so good he can barely hold himself upright and he falls forward enough to kiss along Shiro’s spine. 

“Baby, please,” Shiro begs quietly, impatient enough that Keith has to swallow back a low growl in his throat.  His hands become instantly greedy, curling against Shiro’s forearms with a needy grip as he finally bottoms out. Shiro arches and half turns, tilting his head back to present his lips to Keith and Keith’s hands slide to his chest, to the base of Shiro’s throat, drawing him impossibly close to take his mouth and the angle Keith needs to shift into to reach him makes Shiro moan as Keith kisses away the air from his lungs.

Its soft and slow to start, Keith upping his tempo then sinking back into lazy kisses. The need is there, deep in his gut, curling heavily and insistent but Keith lets himself drown in the emotion. There’s sex and there is making love and while he’s never been overly interested in the former, he can’t get enough of the latter.

“I love you,” he spills out with each stroke like a hymn. “I love you so much. Never- never going to let you go-“

“Keith, oh god,” Shiro trembles. He’s pliant under Keith’s hands. Keith’s bright and strong husband, disciplined and brave, a natural born leader, but Keith gets to have him like this. Shiro falls apart only like this _for him_.

It’s a gift.

Keith strokes into him with more force and Shiro’s gasps become rougher. The only sounds in their room is their laboured breathing and achingly whispered endearments. There’s so much love surrounding them the air is thick with it and when Keith closes his eyes to concentrate on the grip around him, the taste of Shiro’s skin on his tongue, he swears he can see purple galaxies spinning away, threatening to take them with them.

“Keith, baby, I’m- I’m…” Shiro hands clench so hard on the sheets as he tightens around Keith and Keith can barely hold on as Shiro shudders. He pulls out, knowing how sensitive Shiro will be and it’s only a handful of strokes before he’s spilling over Shiro’s skin in a wild haze. 

“Oh, fuck,” he gasps and when he blinks he really does see stars.

He collapses down beside Shiro, curling against his side and sucking in a lungful of air. He likes it when Shiro lays an arm over him and shuffles him closer until he’s held tightly with his nose pressed to Shiro’s chest. It’s like Shiro can’t bear to leave any space between them.

They lay quietly together for a while, neither of them speaking. Shiro uses his bionic hand to draw patterns against Keith’s arm. It’s partly affection, partly Shiro testing its motions.  

“We’ll get Hunk to take a look,” he says, lifting his head from Shiro’s chest.

Shiro gives him a rueful smile. “Am I that obvious?”

“A little,” Keith shrugs. “Only to me.”

“Yeah,” Shiro flexes his hand again. Keith can hear the faint click and whirls as the parts move but only because he’s so close. It’s funny how easily he accepts the tech as just part of Shiro. Just another part of him to love.  He’s never been frightened of it, or wary, just mildly fascinated but a small part of him wonders if it could ever be a threat.

Shiro flexes it one more time then lays it down, palm against Keith’s back. There’s something about the motion that feels too deliberate and Keith leans up kiss his husband on the cheek.

“It’ll be okay,” he promises. He hopes it’s not a lie.


	48. the fountain i drink from

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Holt Dinner)

It’s the same dream. The same glaring of the alarms, the same rush of the wind and rain whipping through the wreckage, the same salt on his lips, the same flash of a floodlight over his face that makes him gasp and squint until a figure looms above him.

It’s not the same faceless entity of his usual dreams though. This time it’s Keith.  It’s Keith holding onto one side of the crumpled plane, stretching out a hand towards him. It’s Keith, but it’s not. He’s younger in the dream. Leaner. Smaller.  His eyes are wide and faintly fearful but as Shiro tries to reach for him, for the outstretched hand he offers, there is a creaking yaw and he’s snapped back into darkness and he can no longer see Keith at all.

Shiro wakes with a sharp inhale to the sound of a heavy downpour outside. The curtains to their room billow out in the soft wind and the scent of rain on the earth is sharp on his nose. He blinks as he catches sight of Keith sliding the balcony door shut.

It becomes quiet and still in the room but the scent of the rain lingers.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He doesn’t even remember closing his eyes but he must have, the broken sleep from the night before, their eventful drive home and the way Keith had taken him apart had ushered him headlong into the black.

He’s still trying to blink away the lingering vestiges of the dream as Keith draws the curtains and turns, his expression turning wary when he sees Shiro is awake.

“Sorry,” he says quietly.  “I didn’t mean to wake you. You looked wrecked.”

It takes Shiro a second to realise Keith looks guilty.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m glad you did.” 

He pulls himself upright and runs a hand over his scalp, trying to reorientate himself. 

He is safe. He is alive.  There is no wreckage here, no thunder to shred his ears, no fear or…

The familiar reminders he tries to give himself falters. Pain. There is pain.

Without thinking, his human hand goes to his shoulder, a forceful ache there that makes him feel weak even though he’s sitting down. His stomach churns faintly and he realises it’s the throb behind his eyes that’s causing him to take so long to come back to himself.

There’s one last effort to dispel the dream as he gives his head a shake.  “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Keith comes back to the bed. He’s bare save for a pair of loose boxers riding so low on his hips that they look like they might fall off.  Despite his aching head, Shiro wants to smile to himself when he realises they’re his. Keith must have pulled them on in a rush when the rain started.

“Thought you might need it,” Keith says. He faces Shiro as he sits on the bed, a slight downturn to his lips that Shiro recognizes as an echo of concern. It’s strangely disconcerting when a memory of the dream flashes by his vision, of Keith but not Keith, younger and less sure of himself. There had been a time years ago when he dreamed of the crash and the rescue often but it was always in vague, unsettling terms. He didn’t remember the faces of his rescuers, just humanlike figures hauling him up out of the wreck.

It was the first time he’d dreamed of Keith.

It made sense, he tries to tell himself. After the event of the last twenty-four hours, absorbing Keith’s history into himself as he glanced through photos on the mantlepiece with Thace by his side. And the fact Keith was a search and rescue pilot must clearly have been playing at the back of his mind.

Just a dream, just the residue of the adrenaline that flooded him at the scene of the accident. He’ll be fine.

Keith watches him with sharp eyes and something inside of Shiro bristles.

He doesn’t want this. He’s been feeling so hopeful, so whole recently. Ever since Keith walked into his life, he’d been flying high on wonder and contentment and love but suddenly now he feels like he’s crashing and the darkness in his thoughts becomes loud.

_What goes up, must come down._

He manages to give Keith a tight smile and searches for a way to downplay his discomfort. “I can’t get used to these naps in the middle of the day. I’ll end up asleep at my desk otherwise.”

There’s the smallest tightening around Keith’s eyes. It’s followed by Keith’s lips pursing a little flatter together and then Keith’s hand is cool on Shiro’s brow. So cool and refreshing and Shiro wants those hands everywhere to soothe away the sudden loud aching of his body. Keith’s touch makes him frail and he finds himself wanting to lean into it.

“You’re hot,” Keith tells him.

Shiro forces his lips to curve slightly. “Thanks,” he answers weakly.  “You’re pretty cute yourself.”

His attempt at humour falls flat. Keith doesn’t even crack a smile.

“Sorry,” Shiro sighs after a moment. He realises then he’s not going to be able to downplay this in front of Keith. Not with how well Keith has learned Shiro’s ticks and quirks, not with his training to boot. There was no point even trying. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

“Hang in there,” Keith takes his hand, pressing their palms together. Without his cool hand on Shiro’s brow, he does feel hot now. Like there’s fire in his veins burning and feeding on his muscles and he recognizes it belatedly as something more than just the left-over tendrils of a nightmare.

But not before Keith does.  “Hunk is on his way,” Keith says. “This won’t be like last time.”

Last time. Last time in the bungalow when Keith had to pull the panels of his arm open and work magic under Hunk’s tutelage half a world away. Something inside him that had been floating so free starts to sink low. It was hardly a few weeks ago, and here they were again. The same dance.

It catches on the inside of his ribs far harsher than it should, the sudden cool dousing of his quietly nursed hope. This wasn’t about his marriage, this was about his previously held tight dreams of touching the sky and the stars and the miniscule hope he might have both.

How long until Keith decided he wanted an equal, not a patient.

He finds himself withdrawing his head, the pain on the inside of his temple flaring. His thoughts, his mind, are rolling on an ocean of doubt.

Just a dream, he tells himself.  Just a dream.

Maybe he’d just been kidding himself to think he could ever be whole.

 

* * *

 

Hunk and Lance arrive at the same time, the timing too perfect for Keith not to suspect they hadn’t already been together when Keith called. Lance pushes through the front door first, his lips pursed into a faintly troubled line and his eyes speculative as they slide over where Shiro perches on the couch and then back to Keith.

“So,” Lance says casually. “Everyone at work is buzzing about an off-duty medic and a dude with a metal arm. Wouldn’t happen to know thing about that, would you?”

Keith lifts one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug as he moves to the side. Hunk trails in after Lance, an ominous looking black case clutched tightly in his arms. Keith closes the door behind them.

“Nope. Weren’t you off duty anyway?”

Lance gives him a flat look at the obvious lie.  “Allura called me. Said she tried to call you directly but you didn’t answer.”

Keith had seen the missed call from Allura but he didn’t call her back. He felt slightly bad about it but he wasn’t really in the mood to hash out the entire event.

Although with the way Lance was glaring at him expectantly coupled with Hunk’s suddenly nervous frown, it was all going to come out sooner or later.

Lance makes a beeline straight for Shiro on the couch.  “They’re calling you a hero, Shiro,” Lance informs him. He pauses long enough to smirk. “Shiro the hero, that rhymes.”

“No hero,” Shiro answers tightly. The paleness in his cheeks creates a bundle of nerves that sits slow in Keith’s stomach. It’s the tech again. Heating up and doing something strange, enough that Shiro’s temperature is climbing steadily. It makes him want to reach for his kit again despite Shiro’s quiet protests.

“Dude, you ripped the door off a car. That’s pretty fucking heroic.”

“Wait, what? You did what?” Hunk demands.

Hunk is at Shiro’s side now, sliding the black case he carries onto the coffee table. He gives Shiro a reproachful glance as he flips it open and the look is barbed enough that Keith can see the way Shiro’s jaw snaps with tension wholly separate from the pain in his shoulder under the force of it.  “You know it’s not designed for that-”

“I know,” Shiro mutters darkly. He exhales roughly and leans back against the couch with his eyes closed. He doesn’t fight it when Hunk hooks him up to the kit he’d brought. Lance watches curiously, before getting to his feet and joining Keith where he stands behind the couch with his arms crossed tightly against his chest. Lance tugs him into the kitchen and Keith follows with only mild resistance.

“Can’t you give him something?” Lance asks Keith quietly. “Like some codeine or something?”

“I have,” Keith answers in a low tone. He’s tense himself, wondering exactly it meant that this was the second time the arm had malfunctioned in as many weeks. He knew it had happened before, Shiro had explained that to him, but he was under the impression it was a fairly rare occurrence.  Not twice in a month.

He wonders what this means for Shiro and his goal to fly again.

Lance looks over at Shiro, no doubt noting the paleness of his skin and the flat line of his mouth. He’s uncomfortable enough that they can see the pain in his eyes when he finally opens them and tries to offer Keith a reassuring glance across the room.

Keith’s heart itches inside his chest.

“Keith,” Lance has to repeat his name more than once to get his attention back. “How bad was it? That kind of thing… Shiro’s history… That’s got to have stirred up some shit.”

“I think it did,” Keith answers. He keeps his voice low enough that Hunk and Shiro can’t hear them this far away in the kitchen. It’s a double-edged sword though, because he can’t hear what Hunk and Shiro are saying either. 

Lance gives him a troubled look.  “You’re going to have to keep an eye on that.”

 

* * *

 

Hunk follows the same routine, a routine Shiro is fairly used to by now. He’s feeling marginally better, the pain relief Keith had given him finally kicked in and Hunk works his magic enough that there isn’t a chance for the tech to reach the levels it did last time. Hunk mutters something about a part coming loose but Shiro doesn’t pay much attention to it. He can’t understand it anyway.

Instead he’s starting at the black of his bionic palm, wondering if the impulsive decision to follow through on the prototype despite the risks had really been so worth it. He didn’t have so much to lose when he had first agreed to it. At the time he’d been hurting and broken and desperate to find his way back to his old life. It didn’t work, but he’d been given something else instead.

And now he had Keith.

He watches the smattering of text on the screen of Hunk’s tablet, even though it means little to him and thinks about what this will mean for his future, for the garrison and their offer. He still had to talk to Keith about it and there’s a part of him that knows exactly why he’s been dragging his feet about it.

He’s got something beautiful with Keith now. Something precious and new and still fragile enough to be threatened from forces bigger than them. So far, they hadn’t had to weather any storms, any conflicting interests, not really and he finds himself strangely nervous over the concept they might stumble.

Keith appears at his side, Lance not far behind carrying a few drinks. Keith hands him a bottle of water that’s almost been frozen solid and it’s better than an ice pack when he crushes the ice in his bionic hand through the plastic and dumps the crushed ice down his throat.

Hunk glares at him.

“What?” he mutters, then huffs when Hunk plucks the bottle out of his hands and shoves it back at Lance.

“I’m in the middle of something here. Unless you want to get fried again, keep still.”

It’s surprisingly firm and chiding from Hunk.

The couch cushion dips and Keith slides in beside him, one hand resting possessively against Shiro’s thigh. 

“Maybe you should tell me more about this tech,” he says. “In case this happens again.”

“I hope it doesn’t happen again,” Shiro mutters.  “I don’t plan on ripping any more car doors off.”

“Wish I could have seen that,” Lance grins but it’s a little weak and doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “That would have been so cool-”

Lance shuts up when Keith pins him with a look Shiro can’t see but can feel. Lance makes a huffing noise and flops back on the couch on the other side, arms folded across his chest as he watches Hunk work.

“Are you sure that’s what it was?” Keith asks quietly. He’s still frowning enough that Shiro knows he’s basically half a step mentally into his uniform. He’s eyeing the tech with a kind of professional curiosity and it comes as a surprise to Shiro that he hasn’t really done so before now. Not this intensely, at least not that he’s noticed. Keith has been so careful about treating it no differently to the rest of Shiro, even in the bedroom he never shied away from it. Like it wasn’t some kind of cutting edge bionic tech and just flesh and bone instead.

Something about the realisation makes a little spot on the inside of his heart ache. He knew they couldn’t ride the honeymoon high forever, he had just hoped that maybe… maybe it would have lasted a little bit longer before reality nosed it’s ugly, demanding face into their marriage.

His lips curve down at the direction his thoughts start to wander and it’s an effort to pull them back. It was the dream, it was the residual of the dream that was making him think like this. Defeated. Broken. Scared.

“Had to of been,” he finally manages to say.  “The strain maybe-“

“What about your flight?”

Keith asks the question Shiro didn’t want to dare consider. Even the sound of those words has him wanting to escape inside himself and slam the door. 

His test flight a few days ago had been mild, just a joyride really to test the limitations of the flight suit Pidge and Matt and Hunk had created for him. It’d been breathless to get back in the sky, but he hadn’t been piloting. And it had gone so smoothly and was over so quickly it barely registered. It might have been another easy joy flight around a tropical island for all the strain it offered.

It makes Shiro go quiet enough that Keith gropes for his hand and cradles it in his palm. Their rings knock together and Shiro has to swallow back a denial he’s not sure will be true.

“Not sure about that,” Hunk answers for him. “Unlikely. I’ll get Pidge to look over the data though. She might spot something I don’t.”

“Well, maybe stick to staying grounded for a little while to safe,” Keith says firmly. He frames it as a suggestion but his tone says otherwise. He softens it with a squeeze of Shiro’s hand and it makes Shiro look over at him. “There’s no rush, right?”

Shiro thinks about Iverson, the offer the garrison laid on the table, the chance he might very well have to touch the stars again. His voice sounds hollow to his ears when he answers.

“Right.”

 

* * *

 

Hunk works his magic enough on the tech that when the evening rolls around and Shiro’s standing invitation to the Holt residence is brought up, he insists on going.

“It’s only fair,” he says, his human arm around Keith’s shoulders as Hunk and Lance leave through the front door. “Don’t you want to hear embarrassing stories about my childhood?”

Keith looks up at him warily. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but there’s something dark lurking behind Shiro’s eyes that even his forced bright cheeriness can’t hide away.  He’s seemed a little off-kilter since he’d woken from his nap but Keith originally put it down to the tech screwing around again and the buzz of pain from a climbing fever.

Now he wasn’t so sure there wasn’t something else at play.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Keith asks. He’s not convinced. Not even when Shiro looks at him in surprise and gives him a rueful smile.

“More than up for it,” he says.  “I really want them to get to know you.” 

He touches Keith’s cheek with one warm fingertip then, trailing it down to land under his chin. Keith holds his breath even though he knows what’s coming and when Shiro tilts his chin up and lays a soft, sweet press of his lips against his mouth, it’s hard not to sink into it. It’s hard not to brush Shiro’s mood under the rug and take him at his word, even if Keith senses that’s exactly what Shiro wants him to do.

“Alright,” Keith sighs. “But we’ll leave as soon as you need to.”

 

* * *

 

Keith insists on driving and Shiro knows he’s got a stubborn enough streak in him that Shiro won’t win if he tries to fight him on it so he simply throws Keith the keys and follows him down the internal stairs and into the garage.

“Can I at least choose the music?” he jokes.

He feels more like himself now, his arm finally back operating at normal temperatures and taking his body with it. Keith’s lips twitch but he doesn’t outright smile.

“Depends. Are you going to choose anything from the last decade at least?”

“Are you telling me you don’t like the classics?”

Keith shakes his head but under the toss of his hair, he does smile now. Something about the sight of it lights Shiro up from the inside, pushing back the darkness that had been lurking around him.  Warmth curls around him, the warmth of having Keith in his life, of sharing this bond with him. Sometimes, when the dark thoughts press against his skulls, it takes him a moment to remember he’s not alone anymore.

He reaches for Keith before he can go to the car, pulling him close. Keith doesn’t hesitate to meld into him and he smells like leather from his deep red leather jacket and that odd brush of strawberries and mint. 

“I’m sorry about this afternoon,” he says against Keith’s hair apologetically, almost embarrassed. “That’s not how I wanted our day to go.”

Keith makes a small huffing noise. He’s not sure if was from exasperation or maybe a laugh but then Keith leans back to regard him with an expression that’s more guarded than Shiro has ever seen on him before.  He doesn’t like it.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Keith asks and it twigs to Shiro that Keith is slipping into his medic persona. His mind probably whirring with things he’d rather be saying but doesn’t because at the end of the day, Shiro is his husband, not his patient and that is bound to cause some internal conflict over how to proceed.

At least, that’s what Shiro hopes.

He sighs softly and presses their foreheads together. He still feels sore, but it’s not really a physical ache anymore (Keith’s wonderous stash of pills saw to that). It’s a rawness to his emotions that has him feeling needy in a way he hasn’t felt since long before the wedding.  Not since the dark days trying to heal after the crash.

It’s all the more reason why he wants to go tonight, why he needs Keith and his family together around him. He needs to borrow their strength for a little while and he doesn’t want to sap it all from Keith.

“Yeah. It shook me up a little, I won’t lie. But I’m okay, baby. I’ll be okay.”

Keith seems like he wants to say something more but he rubs a thumb over the faint stubble on Shiro’s jaw instead. 

“Okay,” he says softly.  “But if you need anything more-“

“I know,” Shiro kisses him quickly then releases him. “I know. You’re right there.”

 

* * *

 

The drive to the Holt’s residence is easy now that the highway had been cleared. Keith keeps his hands on the wheel, his eyes trained on the road. Shiro stares out the window with unfocused eyes and he tries to tell himself it’s just because he’s probably sore and tired, and not because something else is running through his mind instead.

The car navigates them onto the residential area of the garrison grounds. It looks like any other suburban neighbourhood, save for faintly ominous warning signs about restricted personnel right beside the gate.  They don’t have any trouble getting through, Shiro and his car recognizable enough and Keith already cleared by the Commander for entry and as he steers the car into the driveway of a neat, surprisingly modern two-story home, the first flutter of nerves settle into his stomach.

This was Shiro’s family. His adoptive family, but his family none the less, and Keith finds himself desperately hoping they like him.

The car door slams as the front door gets thrown open and Commander Holt stands on the threshold in his garrison greys smiling so wide he almost looks like a small child at Christmas.  It reminds Keith oddly of Matt and there’s no doubt the two are related.

“Shiro, it’s so good to have you home!”

Shiro steps up first and Commander Holt throws his arms around Shiro exuberantly, making Shiro laugh. Just the sound of that laugh makes Keith’s spine loosen. He’d missed that sound in the past few hours and as soon as he sees the way the tension in Shiro’s shoulders melts away, he’s relieved they’ve come.

“Keith! Welcome,” Commander Holt says and Keith unwittingly tenses for the barrel of affection he half expects, only to have to swallow back a relieved sigh when Commander Holt grabs his hand and shakes it vigorously instead.  Shiro catches his eye over the Commander’s shoulder and grins at him, knowing exactly where Keith’s thoughts had gone.

“Ah, thank you, Commander Holt. It means a lot.”

“Oh, please, no. No formalities here, Keith. Please. Just call me Samuel. Now, can I get you boys a drink?” Samuel asks them, stepping to the side and ushering them into the house. “Colleen has been whipping up all of your favourites for dinner tonight, Shiro. I hope you’re hungry!”

“She hasn’t gone to too much trouble, I hope,” Shiro answers ruefully. He reaches for Keith’s hand, giving him a warm little smile as he leads Keith through the house.  Already the darkness behind Shiro’s eyes seems a little more muted and Keith hopes that by the time he’s surrounded by all the Holts, it will be gone completely.

“You know she loves it, Shiro,” Samuel laughs.  “She’s out in the garden right now, you should go find her.”

“We’ll do that, thanks.”

Samuel gives them a fond smile then waves them off.  Shiro tugs gently on Keith’s hand and once again they’re moving. Keith struggles to keep his surprise off his face, the Holt household gleams with polished floorboards and bright tones of white and silver and glass. It would feel sterile in it’s simplicity save for the family portraits on the walls and the odd splash of colour here and there of a pile of books or a vase of flowers.

“Wow, this place is amazing,” Keith mutters.  “I feel like I’m on a space station.”

Shiro flashes him a grin. It’s much closer to his usual grins and it makes Keith want to sigh in relief. “Wait until you see the garden,” he says.

Keith blinks when Shiro leads him through the archway outside. He’d expected a simple kitchen garden, probably a few herbs and vegetables knowing Hunk and Colleen’s penchant for cooking but this… this was something that makes his eyes go wide and his mouth drop open.

“Amazing, huh?” Shiro chuckles.

“It’s… It’s something,” Keith manages to say. 

He stares around, rows of rich verdant under a fine mist that floats down from a domed ceiling stretch out before them. It’s bright in here, completely enclosed with greenery climbing over every surface, vertical or otherwise.  It’s wholly different from a typical suburban garden, this feels like something that would belong to one of the stations orbiting earth, or to one of the colonies on Luna until he belatedly realises that’s probably exactly what it was trying to mimic. A faint hum in the background draws Keith’s eye to a system of tubes and pipes that run amongst the foliage.

“Shiro! _Mio caro.”_

Keith senses Shiro bracing himself, just in time for Colleen to materialize from behind a crop of hanging tomatoes and throw her arms around Shiro in a what looks to be a bone shattering hug. She presses her palms against Shiro’s cheeks and drags his face down to her level so she can kiss him once on each cheek.

Shiro says something Keith can’t quite understand and Colleen replies in kind. It takes him a second to realise they’re speaking in Italian.

He doesn’t get a chance to say anything before Colleen turns her attention to him, and she’s all warmth and tactile hands as she cups his face and also kisses him lightly on each cheek.

“Keith,” she says warmly, still holding his face. He doesn’t try to pull away, not when he reads the shine of… _gratitude?_ in her eyes. “Welcome to our family.”

Something about those short few words makes his breath catch in his throat. He can feel the intent behind it, the solid knowledge that he belongs here now, an extension of Shiro but also welcomed in his own right. He feels the weight of it against his heart.

“Thank you,” he manages to whisper and she smiles and releases him, stepping back to give him back his space. The sudden severing of their contact makes him feel slightly unsteady and he’s glad when Shiro drapes a heavy arm over the back of his shoulders and draws him into his side.

They chat to Colleen as she moves around the garden. Keith finds himself holding a small basket brimming with herbs and the smell of basil and rosemary catches against his nose.  Shiro plucks a leaf off an unfamiliar plant as they talk, crushing it between his fingers absently and the scent of mint fills the air and it tickles something at the back of Keith’s mind, like a memory he can’t quite access. It feels strangely comforting to follow Colleen around the garden, listening as she chats to them, dropping in smattering of Italian that Shiro answers without thinking.

“I didn’t know you can speak Italian too,” Keith says after a few moments of loosing the conversation. Colleen flushes apologetically as Shiro chuckles.

“Colleen taught me after the crash,” he says with a small blush. “Kept my mind busy.”

“And it’s a pleasure to be able to converse in my mother tongue,” Colleen adds.

“Matt and Pidge don’t speak it?”

“They only learned the curse words,” Colleen shakes her head with disapproval. Then she pats Shiro gently on the shoulder and murmurs something Keith can’t catch.

“I’m the favourite,” Shiro winks at him in a mock whisper and it makes them all laugh. The conversation turns to Keith, and Colleen eyes him with interest.

“And you, Keith? Do you speak any other languages?”

“No, not really,” he says, surprised when it comes out almost apologetic. There had been a time before Lance’s family went back to Cuba that he’d asked Lance to teach him a few words in Spanish to properly show his appreciation to Lance’s abuela for his invitation to her exuberant Sunday lunches when he was a starving student.  He thought he’d been saying “Thank you for this lovely meal,” except when the entire table had cracked up laughing and Lance’s sister thumped his friend on the shoulder, he’d learned he’d actually said “I like to dance with hippos,” instead.

He’d sneakily tipped salt in Lance’s coffees every day for a week after that.

“Shiro has such a talent for languages,” Colleen says. “Maybe he’ll teach you one day.”

Keith finds himself smiling at his husband, relieved to see the brightness back in his silver gaze. “Maybe.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro draws on the energy of the Holt household in a way he hasn’t had to in years. It’s times like this he feels that he should miss his own family more, his own blood relations but he’s almost guilty when he realises he simply… doesn’t.

He’d been young when his parents passed, already used to living so much without their daily contact at boarding school that when the holidays rolls around it was almost awkward to be in the same room as them.

They weren’t bad, they were just distant and he’d never been the kind of kid who needed them close. Not when he had so much he needed to achieve, so much he needed to prove and show and _do_ in order to reach his dreams of the stars.

But then Matt had found him, and along with him, came Colleen and Samuel and Katie and suddenly Shiro remembered what it was like to want to go home for the holidays, to have people around him that cared beyond more than what his report cards said, what trophies lined his shelves.

He’s only half listening as they sit in the kitchen, watching as Colleen bustles about. She’s in her element now, another lost soul in Keith to mother and Shiro can’t help the rush of gratitude that Keith has been so readily accepted or so readily _accepting._ He wants to be a part of this as much as Shiro wants him to be.

More threads coming together to tie them closer. Shiro hopes they will never be untangled.

They chat about the honeymoon and Keith finds an ally in the treatment of Shiro at the airport in Colleen and Shiro has to bite his tongue when his husband throws one hand up for emphasis.

“They should have been apologizing to _him-“_ Keith says firmly and Colleen agrees wholeheartedly in disgust.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Shiro cuts in smoothly, shaking his head at the grumble Keith offers under his breath. 

“It was rude of them,” Keith mutters and Colleen nods her head in agreement.  Shiro tries to derail Keith by slipping an arm around his husband’s narrow waist and tucking a finger into one of the belt loops. It works and Keith immediately melts against him.

He likes that Keith is comfortable enough here to do that. So casual and easy it’s like they’ve been a couple for years, not merely weeks.

The simple motion doesn’t go unnoticed and the look in Colleen’s eye is full of satisfaction. Shiro knows she’s going to corner him alone the first opportunity she has.

“You okay?” Shiro murmurs into Keith’s hair when Colleen shuffles to the other end of the cavernous kitchen.

Keith ducks his head before he answers. “As long as you’re nearby, I’m good.”

“They’re wonderful, but very different to your uncles. Let me know if it gets… overwhelming.”

Keith lifts an eyebrow at him. “Have you ever heard about what goes on at one of Lance’s abuela’s Sunday lunches? It’s a madhouse. I can handle the McClain’s, I can handle the Holts.”

“Right,” Shiro chuckles. “Sorry I doubted you.”

“You should be,” Keith says back, but his eyes sparkle and the brightness there saps away all of Shiro’s lingering doubts. The enormity of the last few weeks rolls over him. How much his life has changed, how much more at peace he feels with Keith in his life. How _well_ Keith fits into his life.

Keith squeezes his hand and Shiro blinks, just as Pidge suddenly bounds into the kitchen. Keith steps back just in time to avoid being barrelled into as she launches herself at Shiro.  He’s laughing as he catches her tiny body in his arms and throws her over his good shoulder and she squeals ungracefully.  She pokes him hard enough in the side to make him grunt and then drop her easily to the floor.

“Hey, KT,” he smiles.

“Hey, hotshot,” she grins back at him.

“Where were you this afternoon?”

“Working,” she pulls a face then slides a look over at her mother, now on the other side of the kitchen and washing her collection of herbs in the sink.  “Hunk told me what happened. Is he alright?”

It takes Shiro a split second to work out she’s looking at Keith for an answer. It makes him frown.

“Yeah,” Keith nods. “I think being here helps too.”

“Guys,” Shiro complains softly but there’s not much heat behind his words. “I’m right here.”

Pidge gives him a look just as a small machine rumbles into the room. It rolls its way all the way to them and then knocks gently against Keith’s boot.  The bot flashes a quick beam of green light over Keith’s face and Keith blinks. “Ah-“

“Oh, that’s Rover,” Pidge tells him easily.  “He’s just scanning you and adding you into the house mainframe.”

“Oh, okay,” Keith chuckles when Rover beeps and then turns and rumbles further into the kitchen with a few chirps. Colleen steps back with a small cry.

“Katie! Take this robot out of my kitchen, right now!”

“Moooom,” Pidge groans then she looks at Shiro pointedly. “We’ll talk more about this tomorrow, okay.”

Dinner around the table goes relatively well. Matt shows up a little late, copping an earful of chiding from Colleen as he slides into his seat. Shiro tries not to notice the red welt on his neck that looks suspiciously like it might be a hickey. It looks enough like the one on Keith’s collarbone, thankfully covered by his dark shirt right now but just the memory of it is enough to make him experience something primal deep inside when he turns his gaze on Keith. Keith catches it with a raised brow as he passes Shiro a bowl of green beans.

“Shiro?”

Shiro has to clear his throat, hoping that his cheeks aren’t going too pink to be noticeable. He knows they are when Pidge kicks him under the table and makes a kissy face at him behind one hand.

“Stow it,” he mock growls at her and she flips him a gesture rude enough to have Colleen frown.

“Children, please, at least let us pretend to be a nice, normal family on Keith’s first night having dinner with us.”

“Too late,” Pidge grins.  “Keith already knows what we’re like. He _is_ married to Shiro after all-“

“Hey, watch it,” Shiro laughs. He’s tempted to throw a stray pea at her but restrains himself. He’s not above pulling faces when Colleen looks away though and even Samuel starts to laugh when she tries to kick him under the table again.

“What are you, twelve?” Keith mutters. Shiro can tell he’s trying not to laugh.

“No, he’s seven!” Pidge and Matt yell at the same time before peeling off into laughter that no one can hold back from joining in with. Shiro finds himself lifting his chin. 

“And a quarter,” he adds haughtily, waving his fork for emphasis. Keith snorts beside him.

After the main meal is cleared away, Rover rumbles back into the room. Pidge fiddles with her glasses and Matt hits the lights as a Rover projects onto one wall, music spilling from it’s tinny speakers. Keith exchanges a glance with Shiro, but he shrugs, at as much of a loss as Keith is.

Whatever Matt and Pidge had planned, Shiro wasn’t privy to it.

He should have known though, he really should have when a slide show starts and photos and short video clips flash up on the fall in vivid colour and Matt perches to one side on a stool and pretends to enact an episode of _This Is Your Life._

“Settle in, Keith. You’re about to see everything I could dig up on Shiro’s childhood,” Pidge stage whispers to him.

Keith grins in delight, leaning forward as he watches. Shiro wants to groan and hide his face in his hands when as the photos flash by.

“Come on, guys. Keith’s already seen the photos I have at home.”

“Exactly!” Matt chirps.  “He hasn’t seen these ones. Oh, look at that!”

Matt laughs so hard on his stool he almost topples off.  Shiro is almost to scared too look, a very tiny version of him on the wall, dressed in a lion costume and growling at the camera. Jesus, where did Pidge find this stuff?

“This is great,” Keith grabs his hand and squeezes, grinning wide enough that Shiro can’t help but grin back. “Look at you,” Keith says. “Kind of cute.”

A few more photos flash up, ones of Shiro and his parents that has Keith gripping his hand a little tighter. It helps fend off the unexpected ache when he sees their faces. What would they have made of the experiment? What would they have made of Keith?

The photos move onto Shiro’s childhood years, even a small clip of him singing some show tune song that has Keith glancing at him and trying to bite his lip. “That suddenly explains so much,” Keith laughs and Shiro likes the way Keith’s eyes shine too much to be bothered by the mortification that tries to stain his cheeks.

Colleen shares stories of his first Christmas with them, not long after his parents passed. Pidge tells Keith about the first time she had to make a speech in front of her class, how nervous she was, and how Shiro had been the one to talk her through it.

“And, I even got an A on that task,” she tells him proudly.

Shiro hardly remembers it.

Matt shares some anecdotes of his own, the first time Shiro got drunk and fell asleep behind the bins on the front lawn and how he’d had to drag Shiro inside before the garrison’s version of the military police found him and chucked him in the cell to sober up.

“Do you know how hard that was to move him on my own?” Matt exclaims. “It was like he was born that huge!”

Samuel pins them both with a look that makes both himself and Matt feel like they’re fifteen again. Keith snickers into his hand.

“Still want me even after all that?” Shiro asks him quietly once the slideshow eventually ends and the lights come back up. He’s almost disappointed when they do, not really expecting Keith to lean over to kiss him in front of everyone at the table but immensely surprised and grateful when he does.

“More than ever,” Keith says, low enough that only Shiro can hear and the force of it takes his breath away. Keith’s eyes haven’t stopped shining.

When it’s time for desert, he goes to help Colleen in the kitchen and she bundles him up. “Ah, _mio caro,”_ she murmurs, more to herself when she reaches up to cup his face and draw him down once again. She doesn’t kiss his cheeks this time, she simply stares into his eyes with warmth and intensity that makes something prick at the back of his throat. “That boy in there,” she tells him with a nod towards the dining room. “No, _that man_. He would go to war for you.”

The only response Shiro can manage is a small hitch of his breath. He feels it, but it somehow means something more that Colleen can too. Colleen presses their foreheads together briefly before she releases him. His big hands cover hers. “And it’s nothing less than you deserve, my darling.”

“Did you really think it would be like this?” he finally asks her, a moment before Matt shows up looking for the sweets. He swallows loudly, makes a whining noise at the back of his throat and suddenly Matt is throwing his arms around him and it’s a hug that has them all wiping something suspiciously like tears away from their eyes.

“Of course we knew it would be like this,” Matt informs him confidently as they carry the plates of tiramisu to the table.  “It’s science. And science never fails.”

Shiro’s still smiling as he retakes his seat. Samuel chats with Keith about his job and Shiro can’t help but listen in with pride as Keith relates some of the rescues he’s been a part of, some mundane, some bordering on the extreme. He and Lance prove to be a rare breed, both pilots and paramedics, able to switch out when needed and hit the ground in whatever capacity their skills are needed. There’s a hint of self-conscious pride as Keith talks, he’s passionate about what he does and it’s not the first time Shiro realises how important it is to him.

He wonders briefly if anything will change once Honerva unlatches her claws and Keith is allowed back into the air instead of the ground rotations he’s been stuck on until now.

“But the garrison takes so much funding every year,” he hears Keith say and he forces himself to pay closer attention. “Funding that could be used to help the community-”

The sudden quiet around the table isn’t lost on Keith and he stills, a spoon halfway to his mouth.  Shiro senses his husband’s brief panic, the expression on his face reminiscent of someone walking into a lion’s den. Shiro is suddenly very aware of the fact that of the five six people seated around the table, five of them wear garrison uniforms in some shape or capacity. Keith’s argument is an uncomfortable echo of the protesters voices on the news in recent days.

He tries to clear his throat in the silence and the rough sound seems to jolt Keith.

“I’m sorry,” Keith mutters. He lowers his spoon, cheeks pink. “I didn’t mean-“

“No, no, Keith. I understand,” Samuel assures him and there’s nothing but kindness in his voice. As though he’s heard this argument a thousand times before and he’s got his answer ready. He probably has, Shiro thinks. None of it is really anything they haven’t heard before. “We all do. But a lot of the research the garrison undertakes feeds back into the community. I know for a fact that the medkits you use in your position as a paramedic were developed with a large part of garrison research-”

Shiro listens as Samuel rattles off a few more of the achievements the garrison is responsible for, but he’s only half paying attention. He’s more focused on the sharp set of his husband’s shoulders instead.

Keith doesn’t push the issue any further, letting the topics of conversation slide easily to something new. It leaves a strange taste in the back of Shiro’s throat anyway.

Later on, during the drive home, it’s Shiro who grips the steering wheel as the streetlights flash past. Keith seems quiet, staring into his lap, studying his nails with an unnecessary intensity. Shiro can’t be sure what he’s thinking about, but he has a good idea.

“Keith,” he starts. His voice sounds loud in the cabin of the car. They didn’t choose any music tonight but he suddenly wishes they had, if only to stop his wild thoughts from falling over themselves and into the abyss of his fears.  “Do… do you have a problem with what I do? With what the garrison does?”

_Because if you do, this might cause a problem I don’t know how we can work through._

Keith turns slowly, his expression shuttered enough that Shiro can see it even in his peripheral vision and in the darkness of the car. It takes him a second to answer, even as Shiro’s stomach sinks lower and lower.

“No,” Keith finally says, but the denial doesn’t quite ring true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mum tells me "mio caro" means "my darling" so I hope she's not pulling my leg on this one, lol


	49. cause i'm committed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the “200+k words and 200 followers on the blog” (holy hell, thank you, you guys!) celebration chapter… you can expect it to be super cheesy, indulgent fluff and smut as usual <3

Keith runs his hands gently over his husband’s shoulder.

“Does this hurt?”

Shiro huffs but he captures Keith’s hand in his as he smiles. “No. It didn’t hurt the last time you asked me, it doesn’t hurt now either. And it won’t hurt tomorrow.”

Keith’s answering smile is rueful. “Yeah? And how can you be so sure?”

“Because whatever you and Hunk did worked wonders. The arm is fine. _I’m_ fine.”

Keith’s lips curve into a frown as he sits back.  Shiro still has his hand and Keith doesn’t pull away.

It bothers him. He doesn’t understand the tech, but the human body he does. And he knows Shiro has got to be feeling some kind of discomfort after what he’d done at the scene of the crash a few hours earlier. Was it only a few hours? It felt like days ago already, so much had happened to put distance between then and now but still not quite enough. The pink skin on Shiro’s arm where his flesh and bone meets metal and tech looks too angry to him, but he’s also never seen it look anything but, and if Shiro tells him that it’s not causing him discomfort, then Keith tells himself he should listen.

It’s hard though.  After dinner at the Holts, he should be feeling happy and content and welcomed into that part of Shiro’s life, they had certainly embraced him in a way he’d not really expected to be. It warmed him, and it was another brick to add to the foundation of their relationship, of their marriage.

Even if the garrison still loomed ugly and heavy in the background.

The damn Galaxy Garrison. Ever time Keith turned around, it was there, lurking in the background, a foreboding entity that seemed determined to weasel its way into his life despite all his efforts to push it away.

The tags still sitting in the pocket of their overnight bag linger at the back of his mind and every time he thought about the name etched on them, he wanted to clench his fist and swear.

Why hadn’t Kolivan told him? Why be so secretive. It’s been over twenty years, even longer if she left the garrison service before he was born, what exactly had she been involved in that made Kolivan feel like he had to keep it from him? It didn’t make sense and he has to bite down on the flare of anger that threatens when he thinks of that year of his youth he’d spent searching for her.

All that time, and the answers might have been under his nose all along.

It would be easy now. Easy to tap her name into the garrison archives. He might not find out where she is, but he might find something else.  A purpose? A reason?

The thing was… he wasn’t sure if he wanted it anymore.

“Hey,” Shiro lifts his chin with one soft finger. It’s dim in their bedroom, they’re preparing for bed after a strangely quiet drive home after dinner.  Keith tried to play it off as being tired, but he’s not sure Shiro bought it. The bed dips under him slightly as he shifts, leaning into his husband’s touch.  “What’s going on? It can’t be just about my arm.”

“No,” Keith mutters. It’s late, he should wait until morning, but at the same time he can feel the burn from those tags from the other side of the room.  “Wait here.”

He heads into the walk-in closest and back out again without really thinking. He has the tags clenched in his fist and Shiro waits for him with a slightly furrowed brow.  The little crease over the bridge of his nose makes Keith want to climb into his lap and smooth it away with his thumb and light kisses but he takes a seat at Shiro’s side instead.

“I need to show you something,” he says quietly.  He unfurls his hand, palm up and shows the chain to Shiro.

“Aren’t these my- Oh.” It takes him a second to catch on. “I thought you said you didn’t enlist with the garrison,” Shiro trails off as he picks them up.  He rubs a thumb over the text etched on them. His frown deepens.

“They’re not mine.”

“Your…. Father’s?” Shiro hedges. 

“My mother’s,” Keith tells him with a barely concealed snarl. He takes them back from Shiro’s palm and runs the chain through his fingers.  “Kolivan gave them to me this morning before we left.”

“And you had no idea?” 

“That she was a part of the garrison? No,” Keith shakes his head.  “It would have been a big fucking help to know a few years ago when I was looking for her though. Turns out, Kolivan’s been sitting on that little titbit for years.”

“Maybe he had his reasons?” Shiro’s voice is quiet. 

“Oh, I’m sure he did,” Keith says bitterly. “Not that he’s ever bothered to share them with me.”

They’re both quiet for a moment as the knowledge settles in. The anger burning in Keith’s chest fades a bit, leaving behind just a dull ache and a lot of confusion. Keith didn’t understand why Kolivan would hide this from him. Didn’t understand why Kolivan would let him search fruitlessly for so long when he had this vital piece of Keith’s past in his hands.

He could have started his search for her in the garrison archives.  Instead, he’d wandered aimlessly and hopelessly encountering dead end after dead end. As though she never wanted to be found.

Perhaps she didn’t.

It still stung. Even at twenty-five years old and grown, the absence of his mother in his life still stung, no matter how many times he told himself it didn’t. And he’d given up the search a few years ago, resolved to let be bygones be bygones.

But now it was like he had a second chance. 

“You could start your search for her again,” Shiro says, giving voice to the words already tumbling about in his mind. Shiro curls his arm around Keith’s shoulders, drawing him close and Keith melts into the side of him. He’s not too proud to admit he needs the comfort Shiro’s offering him right now. “The garrison will have records. If you wanted to look, you could start there.”

“I don’t know,” Keith says. His voice sounds weary to even his own ears. He gropes for Shiro’s hand, pressing his palm against the tech of Shiro’s mechanical hand and rubbing his fingers over the surface in the way he knows Shiro likes.  This time it’s for his own comfort as well as Shiro’s.  “I don’t know if I want that.”

“You… you don’t want to look for her anymore?” 

Keith can hear the shuttered way Shiro says it. No judgement, just a quiet blandness that hides whatever he’s really thinking.

Keith chews his lip.

The realization dawns on him with the entwining of their fingers. “No,” he says.

What point was there in chasing the ghosts of the past when he had this future in front of him? What he was building with Shiro, with his man he’s fallen so deeply in love with. They’d taken such a risk to find each other, such a gamble. And they’d been lucky. Maybe it was too greedy to ask for anything more from the universe.  Maybe he needs to just be grateful for what he has and leave the past in the past.

“I was searching for answers for so long, but now I don’t even know if I want them.”

It takes a small moment for Shiro answer. When he does, his voice is rough.

“Keith, I love you. Whatever you decide, I’ll be here to support you. You know that, right?”

“I do now,” Keith half laughs. With the decision made, he suddenly feels lighter. He pulls Shiro into a kiss, just a quick press of their lips and a rub of their noses. “Shiro, for the first time in my life, I’m… I’m happy. I don’t need those answers. I don’t need anything else. Not now that we have this.”

This was the sun that warmed him now. This was the light that guided him. Their commitment, their marriage. Their own little space in the universe they would carve out together. 

Their future.

“This,” Shiro echoes. Keith can hear the smile in his voice right before he pulls Keith into his lap and kisses him again. “Yes, this.”

“I love you, Shiro,” Keith says hoarsely, cupping his husband’s face and pressing a kiss to his lips. His heart feels so full, too full for anything but Shiro to occupy the space inside him right now. He doesn’t fight it, he just lets himself be carried away, knowing that Shiro is right there with him.

He gives Shiro a little shove, just enough to force him to lie back against the sheets. In the glow of the lamp, Shiro’s skin turns golden and the scars that crisscross his body are the paths that Keith’s fingers dance over, but it’s the look in his husband’s eyes that has Keith’s heart suddenly racing. The heat there. The invitation there is unmistakable.

“Shiro,” Keith breathes and they crash together, their hands fumbling as their clothes get dumped in random piles on the floor. There’s no doubt that Shiro’s back to full strength when he grasps Keith and flips them over, pinning Keith to the bed with his bionic hand like manacles around his wrists and trailing his human hand down the side of Keith’s bare flank. Keith gasps out his name again, hoarse and guttural as he arches. “Shiro!”

“Shh, baby,” Shiro plants a kiss to the hollow of Keith’s hip. It’s enough to make him jerk in Shiro’s hands. He arches again, wanting more, aching for more. Wanting to give more but Shiro still has him pinned. The lack of movement should make him panic, the feeling of being helpless was never one he favoured in any lifetime and he lets out a slight growl.  He flexes enough that Shiro quickly catches on and releases him.

“Are you okay, baby?” Shiro asks between kisses. He’s between Keith’s thighs now, his wide hands dragging up the inside of his legs and pushing them apart. Keith’s already leaking, dribbling a wet mess against his belly that Shiro’s breath ghosts over a moment before the heat of his tongue finds him.

Keith swears under his breath and his body jerks, once again arching involuntarily at the wet heat of Shiro’s mouth.

“Shiro, _Shiro, fuck-“_ he gasps, just as his hands find their way into Shiro’s hair.  Shiro seems to take that as an invitation and dives deeper. Keith moans low for a moment, lost in the weight of Shiro’s hands holding his legs down, savouring the way Shiro runs his tongue over him, the ways he sucks, the hum he makes that has Keith trembling with the force of it. He’s lost to the way it feels, until an urgency that’s been biting at him all day flares back up.

He tightens his grip in Shiro’s hair, holding his head still enough that Shiro pauses and falls off him with a soft, wet plop. The sight of him hovering over Keith’s length, his lips shiny with spit and deep grey eyes heated is almost enough to make Keith fall apart right there. 

Keith pants, trying to suck the air into his lungs. He struggles to speak but without being able to utter a word, Shiro grasps his waist and flips him again, until he’s on his stomach with his ass in the air and Shiro’s mouth is on him again, warm and wet and demanding and oh god, his tongue. His tongue delving between his cheeks and probing and Keith can do nothing but moan and clutch feebly at the sheets as Shiro takes him apart with his mouth and his fingers, beckoning him to the edge then pulling him back with long strokes over his back and whispered words that has him trembling in the gaps.

“Shiro, I can’t… I can’t-“

“Shh,” Shiro hushes him sweetly again, and even through the haze, Keith catches the warmth and the affection in his voice. He’s never felt like this before, not with anyone else and he knows it won’t ever be like this with anyone but his soulmate, the man he’s promised his life to. This is it, nothing would ever compare. Shiro owns him body and soul.

He has the briefest chance to draw in air as Shiro’s mouth presses along the ridges of his spine, over the blade of his shoulder and then Shiro’s arms are around him, metal and flesh and holding him close against Shiro’s chest as Shiro presses into him and a long, slow moan falls from him as Shiro fills him and seats himself to the hilt.

Keith wants to keep him there forever.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Shiro murmurs, and the soft, breathy endearment on Shiro’s tongue makes something go weak inside him. He’s boneless from the way Shiro has thoroughly worked him, thighs trembling and unable to hold his weight but Shiro draws him back, his back to Shiro’s chest and a palm cupping his jaw, mouthing along it even as Shiro breathes heavily against his skin. “So good, baby. God, you were made for me, so good and tight, Keith. Keith, I love you so much-“

Shiro curls a hand around him, pumping him in time with his thrusts and its then Keith’s breath starts to stutter in earnest. He’s choking out Shiro’s name, over and over with each thrust, with each stroke, with each slap of their bodies together. Sweat slides over his skin and Shiro’s hand drops away to anchor at his hips. Shiro drives into him harder and he cries out as those hands tighten against his skin, knowing that Shiro has finally let himself go, knowing that Shiro finally trusts himself enough to take what he wants with all the force behind it Keith find he craves.

Keith hears his name fall from Shiro’s lips in a shout and then he’s flooded with heat as Shiro quivers behind him. It doesn’t take much for him to curl a hand around himself to reach his own climax, almost with tears in his eyes when Shiro threads an arm around his waist and pulls him down onto the bed, back to chest and mouth against his ear, urging him on until he’s spent. 

It takes him a long time for him to catch his breath.

“I think you broke me,” Keith mumbles after a few minutes. Shiro laughs against his neck. He’s still curled around him, bulky, heavy limbs weighting Keith down. It’s a good thing, because he feels so light he’s not sure he won’t float away without Shiro holding him close.

“Now do you believe me? That I’m okay?”

Keith’s quiet for a moment, long enough that Shiro nudges him with his nose to make sure he’s still awake. “Oh, yeah,” Keith snickers mockingly. He burrows back tighter against his husband. “You sure showed me.”

“We should get some sleep,” Shiro says a short time later. Keith’s toeing the line between sleep and wanting to enjoy every thump of Shiro’s heart against his own. “The open day is tomorrow and it’s going to be busy.”

Keith swears. It takes a monumental effort for him to raise his head enough to fumble with his phone.  He can’t reach it without pulling away from Shiro so Shiro reaches for it and hands it over, demanding a quick kiss as payment. Keith happily obliges the kiss but not so happily checks the alerts on his phone. “Shit, I gotta go ridiculously early to get our helicopter in.”

“How early?”  

Keith checks his phone again and groans. “Have to be at HQ at oh five hundred.”

“Ouch,” Shiro snickers. “Sucks to be you.”

“Shut up,” Keith mutters but he’s fighting back a laugh as he sets the alarm on his phone. He won’t have any troubles falling asleep after the day they’ve had and Shiro’s arms around him, he knows that much.  “I’ll wake you when I leave.”

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you,” Shiro says innocently.  “I’ll just set my alarm for a normal hour.”

Keith snorts and hands his phone back to Shiro to place on the night stand. Shiro makes sure to put it on Keith’s side prompting a roll of the eyes from Keith. Shiro drops a kiss to his husband’s cheek to soften the teasing. It works, because Keith immediately sighs back into him. 

“Alright, baby. Get some sleep.”

Keith can’t fight the yawn or the droop of his eyelids.  “Yes, sir.”


	50. don't look down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> garrison open day part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter alludes to events that happened in the [ allurance side fic ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13764801) but it's not a big deal if you haven't read it.  
> Title comes from Vol 3. playlist which I haven't quite finished yet.  
> Moodboard for this chapter can be found [ [HERE] ](https://sheithmafsau.tumblr.com/post/176335161811/mafs-ch50-moodboard-coming-soon)  
> also im kind of rage posting this because i've spent waaaaay too long on this chapter and i am kind of sick of it now, ugh

* * *

 

“Well, look who finally decided to join us,” Lance grins, slapping Keith on the back as he falls into step beside him to cross the tarmac. The hangar doors have been thrown open and their Careflight helicopter sits idle in the deep blue of the predawn light. “You’re late, by the way.”

Keith huffs but he doesn’t stop, stashing his bike helmet once he gets inside and swapping it out for his flight helmet instead.

“I’m not late.”

Lance raises one brow and checks the watch on his wrist. A shimmer from the floodlights around the hangar reflect across the surface of it.

“Mm, you’re a little late. That’s not like you.”

“Forgot to set my alarm,” Keith fibs.  Lance doesn’t buy it, cackling to himself.

“Sure, sure. If you say so. Look, I know how it is. Nice warm body in your bed, it’s hard to drag yourself away.”

Keith makes a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat, refusing to Lance goad him into reacting more.

“Whatever,” he rolls his eyes and keeps walking. Lance hurries to keep up.

The rest of the team greets them when they push the door open to their briefing room and head inside. It’s still early enough that they have time for an abbreviated team meeting but the skies over the garrison will be busy and they have only a narrow window to get their helicopter over to the base and set up a small display along with the other emergency services invited along for the open day.

Rolo hands out mugs of coffee and Keith accepts his gratefully. Lance was right, he was a little later than usual but he had opted to snooze his alarm for an extra ten minutes before rolling out of bed. Lance was right about struggling to drag himself away. He’d been far too comfortable mouthing sleepy kisses along his husband’s shoulder to move until it was absolutely necessary. Shiro was still caught in the tendrils of sleep when Keith finally pulled himself away, serene in sleep and gorgeous enough that Keith knows he’s going to be haunted by the curl of that ass for the rest of the day.

“And what’s gotten into you?” Nyma asks him suspiciously. Her twin ponytails bounce as she turns her head to study him.  “Why are you smiling like that?”

“No reason,” Keith half coughs into his mug. The tips of his ears suddenly feel hot. “It’s just going to be a great day.”

Nyma settles her hands on her hips. “No, it’s not.”

“Okay, fine,” Keith says in a flat tone. “Everything is awful and existence is meaningless.”

Nyma relaxes and hands him a plate of cookies to go with his coffee. He doesn’t actually want one but he takes one anyway.

“Good to have our resident emo back,” Rolo says.  “You were getting too cheery for a while there. I think it was freaking everyone out.”

“Ha, ha,” Keith deadpans, then flips Rolo a rude gesture to round it off. Lance snickers.

“It’s your hair, man,” Lance informs him helpfully. “I keep telling you to cut it.”

“I won’t cut it because I know how much it pisses you off.”

“One day I’m going to be cutting a bandage and just… BYE BYE MULLET.”  Lance makes a snipping motion with his fingers, his face split into a wide grin. “Honestly, I’m surprised Shiro didn’t take one look at you walking up the aisle with that hair and run in the other direction.”

“Jerk,” Keith laughs, but not before he drops his entire cookie into Lance’s mug. It lands with soft splash before quickly dissolving and sinking to the bottom. It’s his turn to smirk as Lance throws out an incredulous hand.

“Come on, man,” Lance complains, staring into his now ruined drink. “That wasn’t cool.”

“Time to get moving anyway,” Keith tells him. “Who’s with us today?”

“That would be Nyma, Sven and Rolo going with you today,” Trigel strides in, a tablet in her hand and a grimace on her lips. She looks like she’s been working all night.

“What? What about Allura?” Lance demands. He dumps his coffee into the sink of the kitchenette lining one wall. The small window above the sink looks out over the tarmac and the sky already looks like it’s starting to lighten with the start of a new day. Keith knows they’ll need to get airborne soon.

“I’m sorry, Lance. She’s needed elsewhere today but I’ll send her to you later if I can. The good news is that you’re all rostered off tomorrow though.”

“Yeah, okay,” Lance looks deflated enough that Keith gives him a concerned nudge. The disappointment in his eyes is sharp and he gives Keith a weak shrug in return.  “We’ve been so busy the last few days. I feel like I’ve hardly seen her.”

“Is everything alright?”

Lance plasters on a smile. “Sure! Ready to get this bird in the air? It’s not every day the garrison lets us into their airspace, maybe we can do like, a flyby or something. Check out where they do those weird top secret, spacey experiments.”

“Right,” Keith says dryly in amusement. “Because I’m sure the garrison won’t shoot us down at all if we wander from the designated flight path.”

“We’re a medical airship, they can’t shoot us down.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Nyma chimes in with a shrug.  “I’d like to see the day out in one piece if it’s all the same to you.”

“Remember team,” Trigel cuts in forcibly. She frowns slightly at Nyma but runs her sharp gaze over all of them. “You’re going to be amongst other emergency services as well as garrison personnel today and you’re representing Careflight. Stars know we need to snag some extra funding from the community, so… _please_ play nice.”

“Hey, we’re always nice,” Lance protests. Trigel pats his cheek gently.

“I know you are, but be extra nice today, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

It’s a familiar rush of adrenaline and excitement as they walk out into the dawn and under the still idle rotors of the rescue helicopter. Keith opts to pilot, ignoring Lance’s jealous grumbling as he runs through the pre-flight checks.

“Hey, I’m going home with Shiro. You can fly it back later, alright?”

“Fine,” Lance grumbles but he’s soon grinning happily as the whine of the engines kick in and the rotors start to twirl above their heads. Nyma, Rolo and Sven are already ensconced comfortably in the cabin behind them. “Sure beats those ground rotations!”

Keith couldn’t agree more.

It feels like months since they’ve been in the air when in reality it’s barely been weeks, less so for Lance. Keith grips the stick as the helicopter they affectionately dubbed Big Red (despite being blue and yellow and not red or overly big at all) effortlessly lifts into the sky. Their flight isn’t long but they’re forced to hover and wait for clearance from the garrison’s control tower before they can land and the chopper eventually settles down on the garrison tarmac, a short distance away from where a fire truck, an ambulance rig and a few tactical units are already lined up.

They climb out just as a handful of stern faced garrison guards step forward, demanding to checking their credentials and inspecting the helicopter with hard, unfriendly expressions behind dark glasses. 

Lance leans close to Keith as they wait for the inspection to be completed, one brow raised questioningly.  Keith shrugs. The garrison wasn’t technically a military base but they liked to pretend they were and security was tight.

“What do they think we’re gonna do?” Lance mutters then hides it behind a cough when one of the guards halts to glare at him. 

“You got something to say, medic?”

“Uh, nope. No. Nothing at all. Just here to enjoy the show,” Lance says cheerily. He clasps his hands behind his back and rocks back on his heels.

The guard gives them one last stare before they hand back their ID’s and passes and moves on.

“Well, this is going to be fun,” Keith says dryly and Nyma grins at him as she trots past.

“I’m going to have a look around before all the crowds get here. I’ve been dying to have a look around this base for years. You boys set up the display,” she gives them a wave as she walks off.

“Hey, you’re supposed to be helping,” Lance yells at her retreating back.  She pauses to glance over her shoulder.

“Oh, but Lance, I’m sure you have it totally under control with those big, strong, muscles-“

Keith bites back a laugh as Lance groans loudly. Nyma disappears but at least Rolo and Sven stay close.

“Dude,” he shakes his head at conflicted expression on Lance’s face. “She gets you every time.”

“Okay, I’m pretty sure she’s manipulating me but strangely I don’t care.”

“Always a sucker for a pretty face.”

“You think Nyma’s pretty?”

“What? No. I don’t know. I guess?”

Lance waves a hand dismissively in Keith’s direction. “No, no, no, why am I asking you for?”

“Why are we talking about Nyma. We should be setting up. Give me a hand with this would you?”

They’re in the middle of erecting their display when they get their first visitor of the day. The sun has climbed into the sky now and already it’s bright against their eyes. Keith’s dimly aware of his stomach rumbling, belatedly realising he didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast. He hopes Nyma has found a cake stall somewhere and brings something back.

Or just more coffee. He could survive just on coffee.

“Well if it isn’t Kogane and McClain. What are you two idiots doing out here?”

“Oh, great. It’s Blaytz,” Lance mutters before plastering on a huge smile and turning around. “Hey! Blaytz. You sign up for the garrison?”

“No,” Blaytz throws a beefy arm over Lance’s shoulder. He’s a big man, all muscle with a wide face and a shock of bright blue hair swept back from his forehead. “I hope you’re not giving my old girl any trouble. You looking after her like you promised?”

“Of course,” Lance says. He tries to squirm out of Blaytz’s grasp but he’s holding Lance too tight. Blaytz lifts one big hand to ruffle Lance’s hair affectionately. Lance isn’t impressed.

“Seriously, man. Do you do this to everyone?”

“Just the ones I’ve entrusted to keep my old girl in good shape.”

“It’s been three years,” Lance tells him. “I think I’ve got the hang of it by now.”

“Yeah? Not bored of it yet?”

Lance still looks like he’s struggling to breathe under the weight of Blaytz’s arm around his neck. “Blaytz,” Lance coughs, thumping weakly against the other man’s arm.  Blaytz glances down before chuckling and releasing Lance from his chest. His attention turns to Keith instead.

“So, Keith. Rumour around HQ is that you went and got yourself married?”

“Yep,” Keith crosses his arms over his chest and tries to sound casual but on the inside he’s already biting back a resigned sigh. He hopes his wedding isn’t going to be the subject of the day but Blaytz is too nosey to let it go easily.

“The guy with the metal arm, right?”

Keith looks at him sharply. Shit.

“That’s right,” he answers warily. Lance had warned him about the buzz after the incident with the car but he hadn’t really expected it to over flow into the other departments. Naive of him to think that, he realises now.

Suddenly he wishes his marriage was the only rumour circulating the mill.  

“That was a pretty ballsy thing he did,” Blaytz says easily. He glances sideways at Lance who watches them both with a wary expression.

“He saved a lot of people,” Keith shrugs, aiming for nonchalance even though his body is suddenly tight with tension. There’s a fission of unease sitting low in his spine again, a niggling worry that the unexpected capabilities of Shiro’s arm is going to attract attention that neither of them will want.

“Yeah, I heard that. Pretty incredible stuff. You know, we could use someone like that on our team,” Blaytz says conversationally but before Keith can pick up the thread of that comment, Blaytz is shaking his head and chuckling deeply.  “I still can’t believe it. Keith Kogane went and got _married,_ huh. I did _not_ see that one coming.”

“Neither did Keith,” Lance snickers at his side and Keith shoots him a glare. He kind of wishes Blaytz squeezed him a little harder for that.

“Seriously though,” Blaytz continues.  “What are you boys doing out here and in uniform? Don’t the garrison have their own medics? What do they need your resources for?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Keith says, having to make a concentrated effort to keep the snark out of his tone but he figures Blaytz is there for the same thing as they are. Representation. Blaytz wears his uniform too, navy so dark it’s almost black and a fire department badge on his chest.

“We’re here to show these garrison babies what real heroes look like,” a voice booms out.

When they turn, a man large enough in size to give Blaytz a run for his money stands behind them, hands on hips. He’s in uniform too, a police officer. Keith doesn’t recognize him, but something about the way the sun glints off his bald skull makes a faded memory flicker behind his eyes.

He suspects they’ve probably come across this guy before.

Keith exchanges a glance with Lance. Blaytz frowns.

“Easy, Prorok,” Blaytz greets the newcomer with an upturned twist to his lips. “We’re on their turf today. Show some respect.”

“Respect?” Prorok scoffs, hands on his hips.

Keith’s aware the easy stance Blaytz had a moment ago is subtly shifting into something defensive. He finds himself straightening unconsciously too. He doesn’t like the sneer on Prorok’s face. He seems like one of these officers who wielded his powers as a law enforcement officer too brutally and too gleefully not to inspire a vague sense of unease in the people around him.

Keith’s suspicion is confirmed when Prorok grins widely at them, his eyes are cold and hard. He’s watching them as carefully as they’re watching him.

“Did you hear about the garrison pilots that we have in lock up downtown right now? Bunch of flyboys went out on the town last night and got themselves arrested.”

He laughs, a big honking sound that has an edge nasty enough to it. Lance exchanges another glance with Keith, his eyes widening in alarm.

Keith has the urge to step back, his lip curling in distaste.

“Why do you have them?” he asks the police officer warily. “Doesn’t the garrison have their own MP’s to sort out their own people?”

Blaytz huffs but it’s Prorok that answers. “You know the garrison, they turn a blind eye to anything that doesn’t suit them.”

“What’s that going to do with the pilots though?” Keith says. He’s already thinking about Shiro, if he knew anything about it. Did he know the pilots involved? Probably.

The officer leans close. His breath is as ugly as his attitude. Keith stiffens but holds his ground even as Lance takes a casual step back. He regrets not following Lance when the officer speaks again.

“Narcotics,” Prorok stage whispers and winks before leaning back. “Our jurisdiction trumps theirs when they’re off base.”

“Narcotics?” Blaytz demands then. He suddenly looks on high alert. “What kind?”

“That new shit,” Prorok says with a shrug. He looks away, as though he’s now bored with the conversation. Something in the distance seems to catch his eye and Prorok walks off without another word, sauntering into the distance with one hand on his empty holster. At least the garrison saw fit to remove his weapons for today, Keith thinks.

“Blaytz, what’s he talking about?” Lance asks. The three of them stare off after Prorok, an uneasy sensation uncurling in their guts.

“I don’t know,” Blaytz says distractedly, the frown still tugging down the corners of his mouth. “But I’ll catch you boys later. Look after Red, alright?”

“Of course,” Keith murmurs but Blaytz is aleready gone.

Lance turns to him, the confusion boiling in Keith is reflected in Lance’s face. “Do you think this is the stuff Trigel was worried about?” Lances says. “I thought it was just bad intel and it all fizzled out but that guy doesn’t seem to think so.”

“She didn’t mention anything in the briefing this morning.”

“Yeah, but we’re not really on duty today. We’re just playing nice with the general public. You know, so they give us more money so we can keep doing our jobs.” 

“We’ll have to find out more,” Keith says with a frown, his eyes following Blaytz and Prorok as they return to their respective displays.  The details for Kolivan’s contacts on the police force feel like they’re burning a hole in his pocket and his thoughts wander to Ezor, wondering if any of this could be connected or if it’s just a weird coincidence.

It had to be a coincidence, right? Ezor’s cryptic warnings, the new stuff hitting the streets, if even that’s what it was.

“Yeah, but not now,” Lance nudges him and points back over at their stand where a small group of cadets in their orange uniforms mill around Nyma and the helicopter. “We’ve got incoming.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro gets to the base early, before the majority of the crowds arrive. There’s an unexpected flutter of nerves in his stomach, part excitement, part trepidation.

The call had come while he was in the car, Iverson’s voice filling the cabin with his rough gasp and floating a request to Shiro that he had to blink and ask Iverson to repeat.

“I said, can you take point on the Atlas’s aerial displays?” Iverson growls. “We’re short on pilots and we need to put on a good show.”

It’s hardly a choice and as soon as he ends the call from Iverson, he’s dialling Hunk and filling him in.

Hunk is silent on the other end of the line.  “Hunk?”

“Well, I have been meaning to run some diagnostics but I need you to be airborne to do it so, yeah. Why not. If you’re ready, then we should.”

“Excellent,” Shiro grins and he put his foot down, streaking towards the base in record time.

“You sure about this?” Pidge demands, falling into step beside him as they trudge down the corridor.  The base looks so different already, one large cordoned off area turned into a veritable showground with food stalls and rides and various displays from all different branches of the community that the base supports. Somewhere amongst it all is Keith and his team and Shiro wishes he had the time to hunt down his husband but he needs to get to the briefing room as quickly as possible.

 And some time after that, into his flight suit and into the air.

“One hundred percent,” he says firmly. The butterflies flip flop in his stomach but they’ve got wings of steel, fed by his determination to make this chance worthwhile. “I’m ready.”

Pidge nods, a sharp jerk of the head and at the door to the briefing room, she quickly grasps his arm. “This is your time,” she says, giving him a hug so quick he doesn’t have the chance to return before she’s gone. 

He pauses and stares at his metal hand on the door frame. It’s something alright, whether it’s a blessing or a curse is something he hasn’t quite decided yet.

 

* * *

 

The crowds keep rolling in throughout the morning and a trio of jets scream overhead, dumping a burst of colour into the clouds as they streak past.

Keith and Lance look up, watching as the jets climb and roll, a sonic boom in the distance making their hairs stand on end. It’s both parts menacing and exhilarating to hear and out of nowhere, Keith is hit with a wave of longing so hard it almost flattens him.

Lance sniffs slightly and looks away. “Show offs,” he mutters.

Keith folds his arms and leans back against Big Red, huddling in the patch of shade from their machine. The crowd is bigger than he expected, and he wonders how many of them are casual visitors wanting to snoop around the base or just families of the cadets. There were so many of them, proudly wandering the grounds in their orange and white uniforms, boots shiny and faces fresh with excitement and pride. 

They’re so young, he thinks. That might have been him had his life not taken a different turn. If Antok hadn’t passed away, if his sisters hadn’t shown up.

If his mom hadn’t left.  Maybe he would have followed her through the ranks, who knew.

“So why didn’t you ever join the garrison?” Keith says to Lance after a moment. He keeps his eyes half trained on the crowds, half on Sven and Nyma who man the table and hand out stickers and the odd balloon to the smallest kids that venture close to look at the helicopter. “You went through the whole application process, didn’t you?”

“Yeah I did,” Lance answers as he chews. He’s got a small cup of popcorn in his hands, throwing the odd piece up and trying to catch it in his mouth. “But they were only accepting cargo-class pilots back then. Why would I want to spend months in space ferrying freeze dried peas backwards and forwards between lunar base and Mars?” he scoffs, turning his thumb down.  “Pfft. Boring.”

“But you’d be in space. Not too many people get to say that.”

“Yeah,” Lance gives him a sideways glance. “Because half of them are either dead or dying.”

Keith’s thoughts immediately skitter to Thace… and then to Shiro.  “That was years ago. Things are better now.”

Lance makes a noise that might have been a scoff.  It might also have been a half choke on a piece of popcorn too. Keith hopes not, it probably wouldn’t be a good look having to administer first aid on his colleague in front of a crowd.

“What,” Lance coughs up. He thumps himself on his chest then sucks in a breath. “So, you’ve married a garrison officer and now all of a sudden you’re drinking the kool-aid?”

Keith bristles at the faint accusation in his friend’s tone. “No. And Shiro’s not an officer,” he adds. “Not really.”

“He wears a uniform.”

Keith shrugs helplessly. “Shiro’s situation is… complicated.”

Lance gives him a narrow-eyed look, clearly unconvinced. He turns back to watch the crowd.

“What about you?” Lance asks pointedly. “Why didn’t you join up? I was always surprised Kolivan never packed you off the first chance he had.”

Keith snorts a little. “Pretty sure he wanted to, even if he never admitted it.”

Lance gets a little quiet. He tosses the cup of popcorn in the nearby trash. “Guess the Galaxy Garrison lost a bit of its shine for you huh?”

“I guess,” Keith answers, thinking about Antok and Thace. Why anyone wanted to sign up to something that had such high risk was something he didn’t really understand. Wasn’t there enough misery here on Earth without looking for more in the stars?

“I like what we do here though,” Keith says after a moment and it sounds a little defensive, which is ridiculous because of all people, Lance _gets_ it _._ Keith shrugs. “It matters.”

“Keith, are you trying to say what the garrison does doesn’t matter?” Lance grins at him mockingly. He waves a hand at the crowds passing by. “They’re hosting an entire day dedicated to showing how _much_ they matter.”

Keith glances back their heavy rescue chopper behind them, emblazoned with their organizations logos and then at the other emergency vehicles and their crews nearby. Lance catches his glance and there’s a knowing twist to his lips as he continues.

“When shit goes down, we’re the ones that go running,” Lance taps his chest for emphasis. “We get to be the heroes, not the garrison. It would just be nice if we got a parade. Why don’t we get parades, Keith?”

“It’s not about the glory, Lance,” Keith answers back dryly, half amused. But he gets what Lance is saying. “I can live without a parade but better funding might be nice.”

“I hear that,” Lance sighs.

Another jet whips by overhead, low enough for the air to press down around their heads. It drowns out his voice and by the time the wind settles and the sound of the engines fade, their stand is overrun with a young family, the mom both dressed in neatly pressed garrison greys. She has the double gold stripes on her shoulders that Keith recognises from Shiro’s uniform and her dark hair sits neatly in a bun at the base of her neck. She’s accompanied by a pretty blonde cadet with a baby on one hip and wrangles another child from diving headfirst into the chopper.

“Jenny, please hold onto your brother!”

The kids yell excitedly as they circle Big Red. Lance swings into action first, helping one of the kids up into the pilot’s seat, then lifts up the other one. Keith grabs a spare flight helmet and hands it over, letting the kids wear it and poke at the controls, making zooming noises even as the flight helmet, oversized on their tiny heads, slip forward. 

Keith laughs and slides it back up. “You okay in there, bud?”

“Yep,” the kid grins. He launches into a stream of chatter smattered with questions fired so fast that they can hardly keep up with answering.

“What does this do? And this? Ohh, can I press this?”

Lance catches Keith’s eye from the other side of the chopper and raises an eyebrow. “Hey, maybe we’ve got some new trainees in the wings. You guys want to be pilots one day?”

The kids yell an affirmative and they pose for a few photos with the kids, then they climb down from the pilot’s seat and climb into the back. One of them lies down on the stretcher and Lance pretends to administer some first aid.

“You look so familiar,” the mom says to Keith as she watches Lance and the kids in the belly of the helicopter with one eye. Her voice catches Keith by surprise and when he turns to her, the baby is happily playing at her feet and she’s studying him with a slight frown.  The name badge on her chest says Ryu.  “Have we met before?”

“I don’t think so,” Keith answers. He comes across so many faces, it would be impossible to remember them all. He can’t imagine a time he would have crossed paths with a garrison officer like this woman anyway.

“Hmm,” she says noncommittally. Keith helps the kids climb down after they’ve had enough time investigating the chopper and Nyma lures them close with balloons and stickers.

“Have you boys ever thought about going to space? To the colonies?” the woman, Ryu he thinks her name is, asks. “With your skills as medics and trained pilots, you’d be invaluable up there.”

 _Up there_. Keith has to resist the urge to throw his gaze upwards, as though he can somehow see all the way through the stratosphere and into space, into the orbiting colonies and bases scattered through the solar system.

He exchanges a shuttered look with Lance and it’s Lance that answers, cheerfully enough to keep it light.

“We’re pretty happy here on mother earth,” Lance says. He’s got his public service smile on, the slightly fake one he wears when he’s uncomfortable. Keith knows how he feels.

“A shame,” she says.  She’s still studying Keith with enough intensity he’s starting to get irritated.  “What’s your name?” she demands suddenly, stepping close enough to read the small badge on Keith’s chest.  She frowns as she steps back.

“Keith,” he responds slowly. “Keith Kogane.”

She frowns at him and their eyes lock.  Keith tries vainly to shove down the burst of weak hope that tries to crawl up his chest. He thinks about his mother’s tags, now nestled safely in the safe box of the townhouse. Did this woman know her? If she was ex-garrison? Their ages look like they might line up, maybe he looks enough like her to-

“Maybe Shiro has your wedding photo on your desk, Keith,” Lance interrupts his thoughts. Lance shrugs with a grin before he spies a new family wander over and swings into action to answer any questions they have and make sure tiny sticky fingers didn’t end up in places they shouldn’t.

“Shiro?” the woman’s eyes light up as Lance moves away. “Flight Lieutenant Shirogane?”

“Do you know him?”

“Yes, of course. I heard that Shiro had gotten married recently,” she looks Keith up and down appraisingly. “Broke a few hearts, let me tell you. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Keith says serenely. He’s getting a lot better at accepting well wishes from strangers. His face doesn’t flame up quite so easily and he’s gotten used to being able to bandy around the word _husband_. It brings a rush of warmth every time he does. He’s happy to own it now.  “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find him today, would you?”

Ryu picks up the baby and settles him onto her hip. He tries to grab for the badges on her uniform and she smiles and nods as she turns away to join the rest of her family.  “Looks like he’s found you first.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro spots Keith in the crowd even before he notices the helicopter looming up behind him.

“Hi,” he says warmly when Keith looks up. He looks good in uniform but it’s one Shiro hasn’t seen before. On his back the words _aircrew_ are emblazoned in vivid red under the blue and yellow Careflight logo.

“Hi,” Keith says softly back. He glances back at Lance, presumably to make sure they don’t have an audience then turns back to him.  “Wasn’t sure if I would get to see you today.”

“There’s a lot happening,” Shiro agrees. He steps a little closer but he keeps his hands to himself. For now. “But I wanted to check in before everything starts.”

“I’m glad,” Keith says quietly. He glances up at Shiro from under his hair. “It was hard to drag myself away this morning.”

Shiro smiles at that and Keith answers with a small smile of his own. They’re conscious of the crowds around them. Another jet flies overhead and he uses the momentary distraction to snag Keith’s hand and lead him towards the helicopter.  They stand in the shade of the fuselage and Shiro’s hand lets go of Keith’s only to linger on the small of Keith’s back instead. That wasn’t too much was it? He makes a point of standing close enough to Keith to peer inside, making Keith chuckle. 

“Do you want to try out the stretcher like the kids?” Keith asks.

“Depends, are you going to join me?” Shiro answers playfully and Keith laughs. 

“Maybe later,” he promises then it’s Shiro’s turn to laugh. Lance pops out to wave hello but then he’s promptly bundled up with handing out more stickers and chatting to families as they pass by.  Shiro looks around the emergency rescue helicopter curiously. It’s not as big as he expected it to be but he can forgive himself that expectation after a lifetime with heavy shuttles and large fighters. 

“So, tell me,” he says to Keith. He gestures at the helicopter when Keith’s eyebrows go up.

“What?”

“Tell me about it,” he says again. “You never say much at home, and I get it. You don’t want to bring it home with you, but… I’m curious. Tell me about your work.”

Keith watches him carefully for a minute. Shiro waits expectantly. He suspects Keith is weighing up how detail to get into, how much Shiro can handle. He smiles encouragingly and Keith seems to relax slightly under it.

“Okay, well,” Keith starts, self-conscious to start but a note of pride slips into his voice as he talks about his job and the passion leaks into his words and he gains confidence. He becomes animated and bright and the way his eyes light up makes the breath catch in Shiro’s chest.  It’s so obvious that Keith loves what he does, the sense of pride and purpose he has in it and when Shiro starts to ask questions, there’s a flicker of surprise in Keith’s eye before he delves into more detail.

“It’s a common misconception, I guess,” he’s saying, laying a hand against the side of the helicopter and gazing at it fondly. Shiro wants to kiss him.  “Most people think that our goal is to pick up the patients and get them to a hospital fast but it’s really about getting the critical care doctors like Allura and Sven on scene as quickly as possible. Often we have to set down in urban environments, highways, football fields-“

Shiro folds his arms and leans back. “That’s dangerous work, especially at night.”

“Yep,” Keith answers with a shrug. There’s no doubting the flicker of pride there in his tone now. “It is. Powerlines, obstacles, the wash of the rotors is powerful and if things aren’t locked down, it can be dangerous for those on the ground too.”

“So, you and Lance being paramedics and pilots, that’s not really common is it?”

“No, but it helps if we can back up the aeromedical team if we need to and it means an extra place in the helicopter if there’s more than one patient to transport.”

“So, the ground rotations your boss had you on recently?”

“Keeps us up to date with the medical side. Procedures, treatments, everything changes so quickly plus there’s always a need for extra medics on the ground and- What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What’s the protocol for public displays of affection on days like today? When you’re in your uniform,” Shiro clarifies at Keith’s confused frown.

Keith shrugs but his lips twitch. “You’re the garrison lackey,” Keith tells him, lifting one hand to trace over the insignia on Shiro’s chest. “You tell me.”

Shiro hums and steps closer. He lays one hand on Keith’s hip, heavy and possessive. He can see the spark in Keith’s eyes at the motion.

“Think being newlyweds is something that will give us some leeway?”

He leans closer and their foreheads touch.

“Not sure about that,” Keith whispers back but he doesn’t try to move away. Shiro squeezes Keith’s hip before drawing back and Keith makes a small whine of protest at the back of his throat at the tease.

“That’s for calling me a lackey,” Shiro says pointedly and Keith has to turn away to hide his laugh.

“So, you must be Shiro,” a light, feminine voice says from behind him. He turns.

“Nyma,” Keith says to the woman that spoke. She’s eyeing Shiro with great interest, her hands folded across her chest.

Once of Keith’s team mates judging by the uniform she wears, he guesses.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi yourself,” Nyma cocks a hip. “Lance showed us photos of the wedding but they did _not_ do you justice.”

“Uh,” Shiro isn’t sure if he should laugh. Keith’s frown is so pronounced he wants to kiss it away. “Thank you.”

“This is Nyma,” Keith says flatly. “Flight nurse.”

“It’s good to meet you,” Shiro says. He spares a beat to slip his arm around Keith’s shoulders and he’s pleased when Keith relaxes almost instantly against him. Another man in the same uniform approaches, dark hair and an oddly familiar face.

“And this is Sven,” Keith adds. Shiro glances at him, concerned at the way Keith’s voice sounds peculiarly strangled all of a sudden. 

“Hello,” Sven says softly. The single word feels heavy accented but as much as the rest.  “Congratulations on your marriage.”

“Thank you,” Shiro says easily. He glances at Keith, surprised by the intense expression on his face. He glances back at Sven. Was there history there?  “I’m a lucky man.”

“Not that lucky,” another guy pipes up as he walks past and disappears around the other side of the helicopter. “Hi, Shiro! You need to show me that arm, later. I have questions.”

Shiro doesn’t recognize him. “Ah-“

“Rolo,” Keith informs him quickly. “That’s Rolo.”

“Oh,” Shiro chuckles. “Okay, so this is your team?”

“Some of them.”

“I have some people for you to meet too,” Shiro tells him. He lets his arm slip. “I should really be getting back now though. Come find me later though?” 

Keith tilts his head, considering him for a moment. “Yeah, of course. Where?”

“I’ll be at the flight training complex, near the heritage centre. There’s a few things I want to show you.”

Shiro knows Keith’s interest is piqued by the way his brows climb. “Yeah? Like what?”

Shiro grins, already walking away. “You’ll see.”

 

[art by 91939art](https://91939art.tumblr.com/post/177520769044/the-helicopter-was-dubbed-big-red-even-though-it)

 

* * *

 

The morning drags on until the midday sun gets uncomfortable enough that they huddle in the shade of one of the tents, a few bottles of icy cold water between them. Keith watches Rolo trying to make balloon animals to the amusement of the kids gathered around.

“What do you think? Reckon any of those kids are going to want to be cool rescue pilots like us?” Lance asks. “Or do you think the garrison’s going to get it’s teeth into them?”

“That seems to be what they’re going for today,” Keith says with a small shrug.  The air is filled with an odd combination of jet fumes and hot festival food and it makes his stomach churn in a strange way. Probably because he’s drunk way too much coffee and eaten too little since the sun has come up.

“Do you think she has a point?” Lance asks after a moment. Keith glances at him but Lance is looking out over the crowds.

“Does who have a point?”

“That officer that from earlier, the one that said she knew Shiro. Do you ever think about doing something different? No, I’m not saying join the garrison,” Lance rushes to say. “Not like, going to space or anything. I just mean something… different. Maybe someday moving on?”

“Not really, no,” Keith answers. “Why?”

Lance doesn’t answer for a while and it makes Keith look over at him intently. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Lance smiles but it’s unconvincing. He pauses for a moment, then sighs. “It’s Alfor. He’s not doing so great. I don’t think he has long left.”

Keith has to do a mental scramble backwards. “Allura’s father? He’s sick?”

“Yeah,” Lance nods. “Has been for a while, but he didn’t want anyone to know. Made Allura promised not to tell anyone.”

“What? Why?”

Lance shrugs. “I don’t really understand. But all that time I was hassling Allura about us moving in together and she was so reluctant to actually set a date or… Well, I thought maybe she was having second thoughts about us.”

“No way, Allura loves you, man.”

“I know she does. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, but Alfor doesn’t approve. He thinks she can do better.”

“Did he say that?”

“No. He doesn’t have to. Allura is smart, she’s gifted and talented and I’m just a boy from Cuba. He probably thinks I’m going to steal her away.”

“And are you?” Keith asks, one eyebrow raised. Lance gives him a flat look in return.

“No. I just… I just want to be with her. But we’re always working. Sometimes there are days when I don’t see her at all, not even passing her in the hall. Maybe if we lived together it might make things easier. At least when you go home, even if it’s the middle of the night, you’re going home to Shiro. He’s there waiting for you.”

Keith considers that. He doesn’t mind the late shifts so much knowing that he’ll be able to slip into bed beside his husband. He gets those midnight hours with him, then the early morning and whatever extra time he can before Shiro needs to leave. It’d be a hundred times harder to spend any time together if they were living apart. It was hurdle he and Shiro had simply bypassed.

“Yeah, that’s true,” he agrees.

“And one day, we want to have kids, we want to have a family. Can’t do that in this job. Or… at least it won’t be easy with the weird hours. The long hours.”

An alarm bell rings at the back of Keith’s mind. “Are you really thinking about moving on?”

Keith’s surprised at how much the thought of loosing Lance as a partner bothers him. For all their bickering and teasing, Lance was still his best friend but he was a good pilot and an even better medic. They worked well together and no matter how crazy their call outs got, he never doubted that Lance would have his back when it really mattered.  To have to forge another bond that would even come close with someone new is horribly unappealing.

“Nah,” Lance says, but his lips downturn in a way that Keith isn’t used to seeing. Keith suspects he might not be telling him the complete truth and his stomach sinks a little. He’s been so wrapped up in the experiment and his bubble with Shiro, he’s been kind of a crappy friend.

“Is Allura doing okay?”

Lance hesitates to answer but eventually shrugs.

“Sorry, Lance. I’ve been a shit friend lately. I didn’t realise you had all that going on.”

“You’ve been through a pretty intense couple of weeks, Keith. It’s cool, I get it. Not like I’m going to hold it against you seeing it was my idea and all. How’s it going anyway?”

The sudden deflection isn’t like Lance but Keith recognizes it for what it is and he lets it go without comment.

“Good,” Keith murmurs after a moment. “Really good.”

“Really good?”

Keith folds his arms across his chest, avoiding Lance’s probing gaze by staring up at the sky.  The aerial displays are still going. “Let’s just say… I get it now.”

Lance pats his back knowingly. “You owe me for life.”

“How about I send you a fruit basket instead?”

“How about you guys come over tomorrow to celebrate Allura moving in with me and we’ll call it even?”

“Done.”

They’re interrupted from talking more when a young cadet limps over to them, complaining of a sprained ankle. Keith suspects that has more to do with her crush on Lance than any real discomfort judging by the way she throws heart eyes at Lance as he dutifully fusses over her. When she walks back to her friends, Lance notices Keith’s amused expression and gives him a jaunty little mock salute. 

“And yet another satisfied customer,” Lance grins, making Keith laugh.

He’s subtly checking his phone when Nyma suddenly appears behind him. 

“You know, I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long,” she says. “There’s still four of us if you want to go find him.”

“Find who?” he answers and she rolls her eyes at him.

“You’re not subtle, Kogane.  Go find him, we can man the fort here for a while.”

“Thanks, Nyma.”

He darts into the crowd before she can change her mind, trying to get his bearings to work out what part of the base Shiro would be at.  Most of it was still off limit to the general public but there was a small section of the flight centre that the garrison was proudly displaying and Keith heads there now, following the directions of a junior officer he passes by the garrison’s historical centre.

He finds the sheds, rows of hangars that house the jets, wide open spaces that echo as he walks through. Even with the mass of bodies milling around, talking in hushed, awed voices, the jets loom above them, large and silver and silent.

It’s faintly disturbing to be so close to them.  Their energy is menacing and laced with foreboding.

He shakes off the unpleasant sensation and continues down the halls, glancing curiously around as he does. This is the space Shiro spends his time, these are the hallways his boots tread.  It’s yet another puzzle piece of knowledge that Keith can slot into place, another part thread of the tapestry that makes up the man he married.

His feet slow at the display on one of the walls, rows of unfamiliar faces in their garrison grey uniforms, smiling out in front of a garrison flag.  It was disconcerting to think that somewhere in these halls were his uncle’s photos. Antok, and Thace, maybe even Kolivan.  There would be the Holts, Shiro’s grandfather, Shiro’s parents too.

Maybe even his mom.

The garrison was such a presence in his life and he was just a marionette being pulled by its strings.

He keeps walking, wondering if he’s strayed too far when the crowds disperse and there’s only a handful of civilians left and it’s down the furthest end he finds the simulators, behind air-conditioned doors and pristine white walls.  There’s a few cadets in their white and orange uniforms and a couple of instructors in their greys but he can’t see Shiro anywhere, he’s almost about to give up and head back to his team when he hears Shiro’s voice and his heart does that now familiar little bounce in his chest.

It’s a small amphitheatre dark enough that he can slip in unnoticed into one of the back rows, the ceiling domed and lit up with a three-dimensional map of the solar system.  The glow from the display washes Shiro’s face in blues and golds as it shifts and he fields questions from the small crowd.

It feels faintly voyeuristic to huddle there in the dark and watch, but he’s never seen Shiro quite like this. He’s in his element, breathtaking in ways that have more to do than just the way his broad shoulders fill out his uniform. Shiro stands tall and confident, speaking with an easy grace that lends an air of personability. Keith can see why the garrison loves him. Shiro’s warm, professional, he’s the epitome of a career solider, despite not being one at all.

The room goes quiet and then Shiro stands up, thanks them all for being a part of the day and encourages them to stick around for the final aerial displays scheduled for later in the afternoon. 

Keith waits until the room is empty before he steps down to the stage and straight into Shiro’s arms.

“Did you catch that?” Shiro asks him in amusement. If Keith didn’t know better, he’d suspect there was a faint blush on Shiro’s cheeks.

“The last few minutes,” he answers. He’s not sure on what physical displays of affection are allowed so he steps back after a beat. Shiro takes his hand instead, keeping them linked and their fingers entwine.

“You found me.”

“Yep, wasn’t easy though. This place is huge. I almost got turned around a few times.”

Shiro chuckles, that warm rumble in his chest Keith loves. “It can be like that. The machine shop where the engineers and scientists build the robotics and spacecraft parts is about three times the size of this. You should see if Pidge and Hunk will give you a tour before the day is out. Matt’s around somewhere too but I don’t think his area is accessible to the public today.”

“Weird top secret, spacey experiments?”

“What?” Shiro laughs, his brow furrows slightly in confusion. Keith shakes his head, a rueful smile on his lips.

“Nothing, just something Lance said this morning.”

Shiro huffs a small chuckle again and draws Keith a touch closer. They’re alone in the small amphitheatre for now but there’s a fairly good chance they’ll get walked in on so Keith keeps his hands to himself.  Shiro catches his eye and there’s a small wave of understanding that flows between them, a heated promise for later. Keith loves that. It’s like they have a language without words of their own, just between them.

Another brick in their foundation.

“So what did you want to show me?”

Shiro squeezes their fingers together. “I thought now would be the perfect time to get you in one of the simulators.”

 

* * *

 

Keith takes a seat in the simulator flight deck, Shiro standing behind him. The tech is incredibly hi-tech and when the screens come alight, Keith has to blink at the realism.  Shiro guides him through the start-up sequence, a quick guide to the controls and Keith nods before curling his hands around the sticks.

“I’ve got a sim I think you’ll do well at,” Shiro tells him and he takes a seat in the co-pilot chair. In his lap he holds a tablet, and he flips through the interface until he finds what he needs. The screens flicker, going dark until it’s just the lighting on the controls illuminating their faces. Then the image starts to shift, dark grey masses appearing before him even as the hair starts to stand up on the back of his neck.

“What the hell is that?” Keith demands. He has to shift in the seat but it doesn’t alleviate.

“It’s the simulated anti-grav,” Shiro tells him. “Nothing like the real thing I imagine, but just enough to trick you into believing you’re really there.”

“It’s creepy,” Keith mutters but he curls his hands tighter around the controls and looks up at the floating masses on screen. This was worlds away from flying Big Red into a storm. “So, now what?”

“This is a timed obstacle course. Through an asteroid belt. Something tells me you’re going to be good at this one.”

Keith feels mildly sceptical at Shiro’s faith in him but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t already looking at the timer and sitting up. There’s a part of him that wants to impress Shiro. He knows he’s a good pilot, he kind of wants Shiro to know it too.

Keith scans his eye over the readouts and the view screens and shrugs. “Well, here goes nothing.”

He kicks the controls forward with a hard shove, too hard and it takes him a few seconds to get his bearings and settle into the controls of the simulator. Shiro’s beside him, grinning but he gives Keith a quietly murmured “easy now, no rush.” 

Keith grunts in response. “You said it was timed.”

“It’s your first run, you’re allowed to take it slow until you’re comfortable.”

“Screw that,” Keith grins and once again he kicks into gear and he’s lost to the motion and the concentration as silver mounds fly past on screen and the timer ticks down. He finally breaks through the other side, into an open star field and he has a moment to catch his breath.

The simulation ends and Keith blinks.  “Wow, that was fun.”

There’s silence in the cockpit, and when he looks over, Shiro is staring at him a little strangely. Enough to make him feel suddenly self-conscious.  “What?”

“Keith, that was amazing. That… That was your first time?”

Keith releases the controls and sits back as the lights come up a little brighter. “Yeah, I’ve never been in one of these before. Why? How did I do?”

Shiro looks at the tablet in his lap. “Well,” he says slowly. “You just smashed my top student’s record. My top fifth year student.”

The significance doesn’t register and Keith shrugs. “Oh, okay. Cool.”

“No, Keith,” Shiro shakes his head then exhales roughly. “Keith, are you sure you’ve never had any garrison training? You said you thought about joining once-“

“No,” Keith says firmly, cutting him off. “I haven’t. I never applied.”

Shiro looks at him and the expression is one Keith can’t read. “Maybe you should.”

“What?” Keith laughs incredulously. Join the garrison? Was Shiro crazy? “No way. No fucking way.”

“You’ve obviously got a talent-“

“No, Shiro-“ Keith can’t help but stare at him.  Why was Shiro pushing this?  “I’ll never do that. I like what I do.  It’s… It’s important.”

“I never said it wasn’t,” Shiro answers quietly. “I just meant that maybe your skills might be better elsewhere-“

_“No.”_

They stare at each other in the cockpit of the simulator. Shiro sits beside him, the place of a co-pilot but suddenly, horribly, it feels like they are flying in different directions.

“I gotta get back to the others,” Keith says abruptly, suddenly anxious to get out of the simulator, away from the strange look in Shiro’s eye. Away from the garrison and back to his team and what he understood, what he _knew_. He tugs on the straps of his harness, letting them snap back and climbing to his feet before Shiro can say anymore. He walks out, Shiro a few steps behind him.

“Keith, wait.”

Shiro grabs his hand and the faint touch of his callouses against Keith’s skin grounds him enough that the odd flare of panic seems to subside. He’s still itching to get away though. He risks a glance up under his hair, his gaze skimming over Shiro’s faint twist to his lips. He’s not smiling.

“You’re not going to just disappear later are you?” Shiro asks quietly. Suddenly it seems like he’s anxious about Keith’s answer.  “You’ll stay until sunset?”

“Yeah, sure. I was planning to ride home with you anyway.”

“Good,” Shiro nods once, seemingly satisfied with that. He releases Keith’s hand. “There’s… there’s more I want you to see.”

Keith tries to fight down the dread in his stomach. “Uh. Okay.”

He turns to leave but Shiro isn't done with him yet.

"Hey," he calls out and Keith's step falters. Shiro's voice drops. “I love you."

The words crawl across the empty space between them, quiet and soft. Keith's voice gets rough when he meets Shiro's eye.

“I love you, too."

 


	51. come to the sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> garrison open day part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I wasn't sure if I was going to go with this but then Andy's incredible art of fighter pilot Shiro blew me away and I had to write it! (art at end)  
> Also! Slight spoiler warning for a smidgen of S7ep1 dialogue.  
> Moodboard can be found [ HERE ](https://sheithmafsau.tumblr.com/post/176476039661/flashedarrow-ch51-moodboard-whoops) if you're into that sort of thing :D

* * *

 

Shiro isn’t sure what just happened, other than Keith just obliterated his best student’s sim score on his very first flight in a craft he was wholly unfamiliar with and in an environment he’d never flown in before.

He had been on the edge of his seat, but the way Keith picked up the controls and flew the simulation was unlike anything he’d seen.  

Pure instinct. 

He’d heard stories of natural pilots like this but he’d never actually seen one in action.

And then there had been the way Keith had reacted at the end, at Shiro’s mention of flying for the garrison and Keith had retreated so fast Shiro almost expected to see burn marks in the hallway.

It stung a little. Keith had been fighting those flight instincts so hard since their wedding and until now, he’d not turned tail. It leaves a yawning pit of unease in Shiro’s stomach, the faint echoes of a wall crumbling ringing in his ears as he tries to unpack the scene in his mind before he realises he can’t right now.

The next few hours pass in a blur, bundled up by the crowds and stuck answering questions and giving tours around the flight training centre until Iverson barks at him to get to the hangar and into his flight suit. It’s been a long time since the Commander has snapped at him like he was a mere cadet and Shiro is surprised at how little he enjoyed it. It’s an inkling that settles somewhere at the back of his mind when he considers the offer Iverson laid out on the table for him. 

He watches the crowd outside the window as he sits at Hunk’s workbench, his bionic arm hooked up once again as Hunk does a last-minute tweak. Pidge perches on a stool beside him, running through how she’s patched in an emergency comm and command to the Atlas he’ll be flying, a preventative measure in case the unthinkable happens.

The unthinkable being that he crashes and burns… again.

“So, this is purely a failsafe, since we don’t actually anticipate any issues with the tech. It’s been responding as expected and all the stats are well within acceptable parameters,” Pidge is saying.  She taps him in the centre of his chest, a slight frown marring the expression behind her glasses.

“I’m more concerned about this,” she says. “The rest of you. You’re going to have to watch the G forces. I know the Atlas fighters have dampeners to compensate but you still need to ease back into it.”

“Thanks, Pidge, but I’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” she pauses and rocks back, giving him a considering look that still carries warmth and affection. “You do.”

Hunk leans over to unhook him from the cables. There’s that familiar sensation as they disengage but every time it seems to get a little easier, a little more comfortable. He stares down at his bionic hand, flexing it and testing the mental command and its corresponding movements.  Every time Hunk tweaks it, it responds faster, until at this point there was virtually no delay at all.

“Oh,” he says in surprise. He splays open his fingers then snaps them shut once again, even quicker.  Hunk grins at him. “Nice work, Hunk.”

“That should make things a little more fun for you up there now.”

 

* * *

 

It’s late in the afternoon and Keith and Lance are starting to pack up when Pidge shows up. She’s in the garrison greys, her hands shoved in her pockets casually and a pair of glasses slipping down the edge of her nose.

She looks like she means business.

“And who’s this gremlin?” Lance asks cheekily as he passes her carrying a box to slide back into the helicopter. Pidge glares at him and casually sticks out a foot to make him stumble when he gets too close. “Hey!”

“Whoops,” she says innocently.

“Aren’t you a little short to be an officer?” Lance steps out of her reach when she tries to trip him again and grins. “Ha. Too slow.”

“Oh, yeah? Come here and say that.”

Lance eyes her warily. “No. No, I’m good. What are you doing here, anyway? Need a band aid?”

“No, I’m here for him,” she points at Keith.

“Me? Why?” Keith straightens. “Is Shiro okay?”

“Yes,” Pidge rolls her eyes but her lips twitch.  “He sent me to get you. He wants you to have front row seats to the show.”

“Show? What show?”

“Yeah,” Lance eyes her even more suspiciously than Keith. “What show?”

She gives them a vague shrug, just a jerk of a shoulder as she turns on her heel. “Come with me if you want to see it.”

 

* * *

 

Perhaps it’s their uniforms that make the crowd part so easily for them, or maybe it’s just the sheer look of ferocious determination on Pidge’s face that helps them push through the masses, but Pidge leads them through the makeshift fairground and right up to the flight line. The perimeter is roped off where the grass turns into tarmac and in the distance are the rows of hangars that house some of the garrison’s aircraft.  The late afternoon has deeped into twilight, turning the sky electric blue.

“Pidge, what’s going on?” Keith demands.

“You’re going to want to see this,” she tells him.

Keith exchanges a look with Lance and he shrugs.  The crowd presses in around them, chattering loud and humming with excitement. There’s a heavy anticipation in the air and Keith overhears a young father warn the child clinging to his leg that the jets will be loud when Pidge tugs on his sleeve and points off into the distance.

The first thing he sees is the cargo jet, heavy and swollen like a tick on the runway. Its wingspan is enormous and as it taxies slowly down the tarmac, Keith can see its powerful engines staring to glow and it rumbles past before the engines fire, sending the crowd gasping in excitement.

As it clears, the view in front of the crowd changes, revealing a squadron of sleek silver and black fighters. They’re trimmed neatly in galaxy garrison colours, and they’re all sharp lines and lethal edges as the ground crew swarm around them performing last minute checks.

A voice booms over the airwaves.

“And here we have the Atlas jets on display, performing aerial feats that will demonstrate the speed and manoeuvrability of these incredible aircrafts,” the exuberant host announces. “A mock battle will ensue, so hold onto your hats, folks. Enjoy this visual adventure and remember, kids, one day this might be you!”

Lance wrinkles his nose at that but Keith is hardly listening, his eyes already scanning and searching as a weight begins to form in his stomach. He turns to Pidge, his mouth dropping open to demand an explanation but then Lance is nudging him, drawing his attention back to a small group of men and women that stride out from one of the hangars. Even before the light catches the metal of his arm and his name is announced, Keith zeroes right in on his husband.

“Hey, that’s Shiro!” Lance exclaims, as though Keith’s entire world hasn’t just shrunk and snapped solely to the thread between himself and the man he loves.

As though Shiro hadn’t already found his eyes in the crowd and flashed him a grin and raised two fingers quickly to his lips in a motion Keith knows is just for him. 

As though Keith wasn’t already struggling to breathe under the force of the war raging inside his chest.

There’s a sudden, fierce pride that fills him as Shiro waves to the crowd but a strange kind of fear too. The memory of not so long ago of Shiro’s pale and wan face as the tech in his arm misfired, makes Keith uneasy.

_Maybe stay grounded for a few days, huh?_

Shiro and the other pilots climb into their jets and the engines kick in with high pitched whines. The noise is deafening, the winds whip up dirt and dust and the air is heavy with fumes but the crowd laps it all up, shrieks of excitement as the first jet takes off straight into a vertical climb before looping over, followed quickly by the rest of the squadron. In their place, a huge holographic light display maps their progress through the twilight sky.

The jets roar overhead in formation before splitting, the lights on their wings blinking in the waning dusk. They keep their passes slow initially, flying upside down, cockpit to the earth before dipping and rolling and picking up speed in a carefully choregraphed dance through the heavens. Lance grabs his arm in fright when two jets pass close enough they look like they’re skimming each other’s bellies and a spray of flares begin to flutter out behind them. Each pass feels like the spectators are being pushed into the dirt. Keith watches the jets keenly.

“Which one is Shiro?” Lance wants to know and Keith stares up. One of the lead jets tips it’s wing before there’s a crack of a sonic boom and it disappears in a shriek and wind and noise. Keith finds himself grinning widely as his hair snaps around his face in the wind. He points. 

“That one.”

Lance gives him an amused glance, faintly sceptical.  “Yeah? And how do you know?”

The holographic display tracks the fighter’s movements for the benefit of the crowds but Keith tracks only one. He wishes he had a line into Shiro’s cockpit, but he wishes more he was up there too, barrelling and tumbling through the clouds with Shiro, flying purely for the joy of it, the thrill. 

He hopes Shiro is having the time of his life.

“I just do.”

“He’s right though,” Pidge says at his side. She gestures at the display. “The black one is Shiro.”

“Told you.” Keith can’t help it, he feels a little smug he’s able to pick Shiro out by his flying style alone, despite never having actually seen him fly. Something about the jet just feels right and they all cheer when said jet comes low enough to streak over the crowd, dipping the wings like a wave. The crowd shrieks and even Lance yelps at the gust and noise.  Pidge laughs behind her glasses.

“He’s just showing off now,” she says.

“Is Hunk monitoring him?” Keith asks in a lull between passes.  Pidge slides the glasses up her nose. She’s always felt formidable, but never so as when she’s in uniform, back ramrod straight and gold bars at her shoulders. Her hair still floats in a cloud of cropped auburn waves around her head.

“Yes. So is Matt,” she gives him a pointed look that tells him she knows exactly where his thoughts have wandered. “He’s going to be fine, Keith.”

Keith turns his gaze back to the sky. It’s dark now, the jets performing a final pass that explodes the sky into colour before streaking vertically into the heavens. Pidge tells him they’ll do a wide pass over the ocean before turning back, enough time for the final fireworks for the crowd’s entertainment and the open day to wrap up completely.

“I didn’t realise the garrison was so… weaponized,” Lance says a short time later.  The fireworks completed, they’re walking back towards the hangars but Lance is about to split to go back to the team and their Careflight helicopter. He would fly them back, leaving Keith to track down Shiro for a ride home.

“They’ve always been weaponized,” Keith says quietly, his eyes flicker to Pidge who walks ahead of them. The crowds have dispersed now, only stragglers like themselves left behind. “I guess they’re just not trying to hide it anymore.”

Lance makes a noncommittal sound in response. It’s hard to read his face properly in the darkness.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, of course. We’re celebrating, right?”

Lance’s face splits into a grin then, his teeth flashing white. “You bet we are.”  He throws his hands up, cheering as he walks away. “My fiancé is finally moving in with me!”

By the time Keith make it to the hangar, Shiro is already out of the jet and standing on the tarmac, a gang of grey garbed garrison officers crowding around him. They’re clearly thrilled by his performance, slapping him on the back and offering up congratulations. 

In the floodlights of the hangar, Shiro looks bright but tired, his hair a little damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed enough to hint at the exertion the flight took out of him. But he’s whole and standing tall with his black flight helmet tucked under one arm and Keith has to blink at the way the lights wash over his face and crown his head like a halo when Keith approaches.

He’s close when a dark-skinned man clasps Shiro’s hand. He squints at Shiro with lips in a tight line. “I hope this makes your decision easier, Shiro,” he says then he’s gone before Keith can think twice about what he’s heard.

All his thoughts scatter when Shiro sets his gaze on him and the crowd parts to let him through without effort and as he gets close, Shiro latches onto him and pulls him close, burying his nose into Keith’s hair and inhaling deeply.

Keith ignores everyone else around them and curls his arms around his husband. Shiro’s is damp with sweat and his flight suit smells something metallic under his nose but the shape of him feels like home.

“You kept that under your hat,” Keith says quietly. Shiro has the grace to look slightly sheepish. He ducks his head.

“Wanted to surprise you. Are you…?”

_Angry? Annoyed? Scared out of my fucking mind?_

“No,” Keith says in a low voice. He’s conscious of the officers still around them, watching them, waiting for Shiro’s time and attention. _Let them wait,_ he thinks.  “I’m proud of you.”

It’s not a lie. He is, he’s so proud of Shiro but it’s a selfish niggle in his gut that has him considering how much further Shiro wanted to reach. He was back in the skies, would he push for the stars too?

Keith pushes the worry down. Shiro’s face splits, a happy smile curving up his lips and instantly Keith’s glad that he did. This is Shiro’s moment, and achievement in itself that after the doomed prototype flight that cost him his arm and half his sanity, he was clawing his way back.

Keith makes to step back, to give Shiro a modicum of space in front of his peers but Shiro keeps his arm tightly around Keith’s shoulders, a subtle declaration that Keith belongs to him, that Keith is someone important and Keith relishes it. He looks down at Keith, eyes soft and says the words so simply that Keith’s heart flutters in his chest as he introduces him.  “This is my husband.”

Keith stays glued to his side, fighting back the irrational tension inside of him with each officer that talks to them. A part of him wants to beat back these garrison officers with a stick and yell _you can’t have him_.  They’d left him hanging after his crash, had tried to pin the prototypes failure on him, and now they worshiped him like a star.

They could all rot as far as Keith was concerned.

When the small crowd finally melts away, Shiro presses a light kiss to Keith’s temple. “I was thinking about you the whole time,” he says softly. For Keith’s ears only. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Keith tries to ignore the pit of dread that threatens to crack open in his gut. He presses close to Shiro, ignoring the hard lumps and buckles of his flight suit even as they dig into his flesh. “I didn’t do anything,” he says.  “That was all you.”

Shiro’s smile is tired, but amused. Keith figures the adrenaline buzz must be wearing off now. He reaches up to touch Keith’s cheek, swiping the pad of his thumb over Keith’s cheekbone.  Keith wants to do the same. He wants to lift his hand and rub away the tiredness from Shiro’s eyes.

Shiro looks like he wants to say something so Keith stays quiet but when he speaks, it’s not what he was expecting him to say.

“I need to go debrief with the others, do you mind hanging around a bit longer?”

Keith turns his face into Shiro’s hand, kissing his palm. “You’re my ride home, I’m not going anywhere.”

Shiro leads him down a hallway into some kind of officer’s lounge. The couches are a garish orange against the smooth pale grey of the walls and carpet. On one side a bench with a coffee machine lines the wall and Keith is already making a bee line for it before Shiro’s even left the room.

“Okay,” Shiro laughs. “I guess you’re good to wait here then.”

“Coffee,” Keith says and Shiro flashes him one last smile before he disappears.  Keith holds the mug in his hands as he wanders back to the couch.  The door hisses open and a woman in civilian clothes walks in. Keith gives her a small smile in greeting as she walks gingerly towards the couch. She takes a seat on the other side.

“Are you waiting too?” she asks him, although her eyes flicker over his uniform, widening slightly at the badge on his shoulder. She seems slightly older than him, fine lines around her mouth but her eyes are youthful. “Everything is alright, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Keith hurries to reassure her. “Yes, I’m waiting for my husband. He was one of the pilots.”

“Mine too,” she tells him with a relieved smile. “Feels like I’m always waiting for him these days though. It’s almost impossible to get them away from those jets. He warned me before we got married but,” she chuckles lightly. “I guess I underestimated how serious he was.”

Keith’s not sure how to respond to that but he doesn’t need to. The woman continues to chat, perhaps in an effort to dispel nerves or just to fill the air between them. “They always say fighter pilots are a breed of their own, always chasing the next thrill. It’s hard to compete with that.”

There’s a brief lull as she looks at him. Keith takes a sip from his mug in an effort to stall. Maybe she’ll start talking again and he’ll be saved from having to answer.

No such luck.

“How long have you been married?” he finally asks.

“About three years now. Rick- that is, my husband, is… well, he’s been accepted into the space program now so I guess I should get used to him being gone.”

She laughs shakily but it sounds hollow enough that Keith can sense the distress in her words. He refuses to think about how it must feel. He doesn’t need to, he already knows.

The door opens again and a tall blonde man pauses by the door. She gets up to leave.

“Nice talking to you,” she says with a hesitant smile. “Maybe I’ll see you around again if our boys keep flying together.”

Keith tries not to think about that. “Yeah, sure.”

Left alone in the room, he sinks back against the couch. It’s not particularly soft or inviting, the cushions are a little too stiff for that, but it’s been a long enough day that combined with the early start and his head throbbing a little from the sun and all the noise it would be easy enough to just close his eyes and fall asleep. 

The model ships on the coffee table catch his eye instead.

He picks it up, turning the over in his hands, staring at the detail on it so intently and lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t realise Shiro is standing beside him until he speaks.

“That’s the Calypso,” he says. “Took us all the way to the moons of Jupiter.”

Keith’s lips twitch and he places the model back onto the coffee table. “Took them three years to get there,” Keith answers. Shiro’s raised eyebrow makes him smirk. “What? I know my history,” he shrugs. “Thace wouldn’t ever shut up about it.”

That makes Shiro laugh. He looks refreshed now, changed out of his flight suit and into the soft worn jeans that Keith loves on him and a white shirt etched with a small garrison logo on his chest. His hair is damp, the ivory strands of his bangs pushed back away from his face. He doesn’t look any worse for wear but Keith finds himself mentally cataloguing every movement he makes carefully.

Shiro knows what he’s doing. He holds out a hand and Keith takes it, letting Shiro pull him up. “Hunk said it might take a while for the data to collate from the diagnostics but we should know how it all went in a few days.”

“And you feel okay? No discomfort?”

Shiro flexes his hand. “None. I’m feeling pretty good all things considered.”

He looks pretty good too, Keith thinks. Although that’s not a professional opinion, that’s just Keith’s body reacting to the sight of his husband in those jeans.

“What about the rest of you?” Keith hedges.

Shiro lifts an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” he says slyly, falling back on their old game. Keith savours the grin Shiro gives him.  “You should check me out, just in case.”

“Believe me,” Keith runs his eye over him. “That’s the first thing I plan on doing when we get home.”

Shiro’s lips quirk but he steps back, far enough out of Keith’s reach that Keith senses there’s something brewing. His suspicion is confirmed when Shiro’s expression turns a little serious. “Before we go, there’s one more thing I want to show you. Are you up for it?”

Keith hopes it’s not another simulator run.  He tries to search out a hint in Shiro’s face, but his expression is carefully schooled into something patient and even a little bit guarded.

“Sure,” Keith says slowly.  “Lead the way.”

Shiro does, leading him out and back into the halls, nodding at some of the people that pass them. He takes Keith’s hand with a questioning glance, asking silently if it’s okay and Keith has to turn his gaze down at their joined hands. He likes the way Shiro’s palm fits against his, it doesn’t matter if it’s human one or his bionic one, both belong in his.

The hallway leads back outside and across a courtyard. The sky above them is quiet now, the base around them strangely vacant now that the crowds have gone. Keith wonders if the open day would achieve what the garrison wanted. Would there be a new influx of cadets come the new year? How many of them would go all the way to the outer reaches of the solar system? How many would come back.

Shiro doesn’t let go of his hand and something about that is comforting. The garrison was Shiro’s space, but seeing his hand curled around Keith’s reminds him that the garrison can’t claim him. Not entirely. Not anymore.

“Where are we going?” Keith asks curiously after a few minutes of walking. Gravel crunches under their boots.

“This is the memorial,” Shiro says when they stop outside a small, white walled building. His voice is quiet in the darkness and when they walk inside, their footsteps echo in the cavernous space.

Overhead, the ceiling is a domed mass of constellations and in the centre, a small briar burns with a cold, artificial flame. Around the curved walls, plaques display rows and rows of names and photographs. The edge of the room is littered with flowers.

“It’s not usually like this,” Shiro continues, his voice subdued. “But I guess a lot of people visiting today stopped in to show their respects.”

A memory tickles at the edge of Keith’s mind. He vaguely remembers coming here as a kid, trailing behind his uncles as some kind of ceremony was performed at one end. He doesn’t remember much, but he remembers the awed feeling it gave him.

It’s the same one he experiences now. Shiro gives his hand a light tug and leads him to one side to a display case full of photos.

“I didn’t make the connection until that night at your uncle’s house,” Shiro tells him as he pulls Keith close, beckoning him to look at the photos. Keith expected them to be formal portraits but these seem to be more candid, the garrison officers in the photos smiling and somewhat relaxed as they stand in front of the launch site. A shuttle looms in the background and Keith’s breath stutters when his gaze roams over the faces of the officers in front of it then quickly snaps back. 

He has to resist the urge to press his fingers against the glass.

“Antok,” he breathes. 

And it is. It’s his uncle, standing amongst the officers in the photo. He’s in the garrison uniform and he’s stoic, but beside him, Thace is smiling, his lips pressed together and curved up. They look young, not much older than Keith is now. “Thace, too.”

Tears abruptly prick unwelcomingly at the back of his eyes at the sight of it. He has never seen this photo before and it’s like getting a small piece of both his uncles back. Something that sounds like half a laugh, half a sob falls out of his chest and Shiro slides his arm around his shoulders to offer comfort and Keith leans into it gratefully.

“I didn’t know this was here,” Keith says.  “Thank you for showing me.”

The stand in silence in front of the photo for a moment longer, Keith trying to commit it to memory. Shiro’s hand rubs a small circle at the small of his back, almost absently.

“My parents are here too,” Shiro says after a moment. “And my grandfather.”

Keith turns his face up but Shiro’s not looking at him.  He searches Shiro’s face but his expression is still guarded. “Show me,” Keith says softly.

Shiro’s eyes glimmer, as though he’s hesitating but then then he crosses the room, Keith on his heels and suddenly there they are, the same faces Keith recognizes from the photo in their lounge room at home smiling out at them from behind framed glass.

He slips his hand into Shiro’s and their fingers entwine. There’s comfort there. Soft and solid. His eyes skim the row of names, recognizing none until he comes across a name that’s as beloved in a way his will never be.

_Shirogane._

Without thinking, he reaches out to trace a finger lightly over the etched name. Keith tastes it on his tongue.

A thought comes to him like a bolt out of the blue, realisation dawning like stormy clouds parting to let through the sun.

One day, if they have children, this is the name he wants them to carry.

It surprises him. A few weeks ago, he couldn’t fathom the thought of being a parent but being with Shiro his thoughts have started to shift. He’s not sure he wants it yet, or if he ever will, but he’s less inclined to shut the door on the idea. He might even consider entertaining it.

But he knows, he knows he wants that for Shiro.

Maybe even for himself.

He’d clung to his mother’s name for so long in the hope that someday, one day, she might find him again. But the edges of his need to find her have dulled. He doesn’t need to know her to know who he is. He doesn’t need to cling to a name that doesn’t have the history, the heritage like Shiro’s does.

Shiro had asked him once, that tap on the panel of his uniform, the soft _you could you know, change it._

He’s starting to think he might. Another way to meld himself to Shiro, another way they can belong to each other, because even with everything laid out, it’s still not enough. Keith wants it all, but then he’s always been a little greedy.

He withdraws his hand and Shiro opens his arms to him. He doesn’t hesitate to step close, letting Shiro fold around him as he presses his nose into Shiro’s throat.

“You’re my family now, Keith,” Shiro says quietly into his hair and Keith’s heart stammers. But for the first time that day, he feels like he can breathe again.

* * *

 

Art by the lovely [Andy (mondaijo)](http://mondaijo.tumblr.com/post/174896860889/commission-for-flashedarrow-smug-pilot-shiro-a)


	52. see that sky, we're gonna reach it now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few ppl requested the nsfw scene ahead so.. uuh, you're welcome?
> 
> **also [ moodboard HERE ](https://sheithmafsau.tumblr.com/post/176714106116/ch52-moodboard) if that's your thing :)

“The sky dome?” Keith queries when Shiro tugs him with one hand to another part of the garrison base. “What are we doing here?”

“I know it’s been a long day but it’s still early,” Shiro says tentatively. “Didn’t really feel like heading straight home. And this was something I wanted you to have a chance to see.”

“I haven’t been here since I was a kid,” Keith confesses. This part of the base was publicly accessible, civilian run and a beacon for schools around the city. He hasn’t since he was still in primary school, the weird kid that hung back as the rest of the class stumbled in with excited chatter. It hadn’t really interested him then, not like it should have with two uncles that had actually been to space but now there’s a faint stirring of curiosity behind his breastbone. 

If Shiro brought him here, he wanted to know why.

“Let me show you,” Shiro says, holding out his hand. Keith doesn’t hesitate, letting Shiro’s big solid palm curl around his and tug him towards the building. The short path through a small garden and as they get closer, the lights illuminate the building get brighter until the entire façade is lit up like a star. It’s glossy white and silver, wide glass doors that open automatically as they get close and once inside, they’re greeted by a ticket kiosk, a gift shop and tall escalators that led upstairs to the main area.

Keith goes with Shiro to the ticket booth. Shiro smiles warmly at the attendant, turning on his easy charm. “Two for the show, please.”

Keith raises an eyebrow. “The show?”

“Yeah,” Shiro flashes him a small smile. “I want to make out with you in the dark,” he whispers when the attendant turns around to get his change. It makes Keith cough into his hand in order to muffle a small laugh.

“Here you go,” the attendant smiles. She studies Shiro a little too closely for her not to know him.

“Haven’t seen you here in a while,” she says. “On a date?”

Shiro and Keith exchange a glance. Keith’s lips twitch as Shiro answers. “You could say that.”

The attendant’s gaze flicks to Keith curiously then back to Shiro and gives them a warm smile. “Well, I won’t go over the drill with you since you’ve been here before but remember once the lights go down, the doors lock so you won’t be able to come out until the show finishes. Enjoy the show.”

“We will, thanks,” Shiro gives her another easily smile and shoves his wallet back into his jeans. He holds the tokens in one hand and lays his other palm against the small of Keith’s back to nudge him towards the escalators.

“Do you come here a lot?” Keith asks him as they rise towards the next level. He makes a point to stand on a higher step so that they’re eye to eye.

“I used to. But it’s been a long time since my last visit.”

“So why tonight? This place is open any time.”

“I’m not sure,” Shiro says. He gives Keith a small look. “Guess I just wanted to take you somewhere that was special to me after everything that’s happened today.”

Keith lays a hand against Shiro’s shoulder and leans in to give him a light peck, conscious that they’re in a public place and there are still curious visitors around even though Shiro is no longer in uniform. He wishes he’d thought to change too. His own uniform feels limp against his skin after the heat of the day.

“You feel okay?” Keith asks quietly. He’s somewhat surprised he’s lasted this long to ask but he’s been skirting the detail around Shiro’s flight for the crowds for what feels like hours now.

“I’m fine,” Shiro says pointedly as they step onto the next level. He takes Keith’s hand and leads him towards the doorway that will take them into the cosmic sky dome proper. “Come on.”

When they enter, it’s dark and hushed and Shiro follows the strip of green neon between the chairs and leads him to a row that’s hardly populated. Actually, now that Keith’s eyes have adjusted to the low light, there’s only a handful of other people in the room. He’s grateful for that.

“We have a little bit of time before it starts yet,” Shiro tells him as they settle into their seats. The chairs are comfortably plush but severely reclined. It feels strange to be leaning so far back when the dome is still inactive so Keith perches awkwardly on the edge of his seat. Shiro does the same, reaching for Keith’s hand and clasping them in his own as he turns in to face him.

“So, what’s the show going to be about?” Keith asks curiously. He can feel the day weighing on him, the fatigue and the touch of sun makes him want to curl up in Shiro’s lap. He stays where he is instead.

“Stars. The universe. Space,” Shiro shrugs. “All that cool stuff.”

“And how many times have you seen it?”

Shiro laughs a little at that.  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he murmurs. He runs his thumb over the back of Keith’s hand and looks up towards the high domed ceiling.  “Thanks for indulging me on this.”

“I love you,” Keith says quietly, probably for the hundredth time that day. “If it’s important to you, it’s important to me.”

Shiro’s eyes glitter in the dim light when he drops his gaze to turn to Keith. There’s a brief lull then he pulls Keith close, raising one hand to cup the back of Keith’s head and hold him in place as he presses a warm, lingering kiss to Keith’s mouth. It’s dark enough in here that Keith doubts anyone is paying any attention to them. It makes him a little brave and he brushes his tongue over the seam of Shiro’s lips and when they part to let him in, he finds himself getting a little greedy, pushing for more until Shiro draws back with a small chuckle.

Their foreheads touch. Shiro’s hand still rests heavy on the nape of his neck.

“What is it?” Keith whispers. He knows Shiro well enough now that he can sense there’s something lurking at the edges.

“I know we’re still learning our way around each other,” Shiro says softly. “And I know we won’t always agree or see eye to eye, but I promise I’ll always be prepared to listen. I want this marriage to work, Keith. You… what we have-“

“I know,” Keith whispers back. His heart swells. “You’re everything to me, Shiro.”

A fraction later, the room becomes impossibly dark and stars wink into existence above them. Shiro tugs him back to recline against their seats. The show starts as holographic stars and planets gently bloom around them and a soothing, melodious voice chronicles a journey through space. The swell and spin of the imagery that surrounds them gives Keith the dizzying sensation he’s nothing but a floating, bodiless entity, flying through the vast regions of the universe and whipping through galaxies so fast he feels impossibly small and insignificant.

So expansive, so vast. So hostile.

He doesn’t realise how tightly he’s holding onto Shiro’s hand until Shiro leans close to whisper against his ear.

“Right here,” he hears Shiro say in the starlight. Always the stars. Shiro always holds him in the stars. “I’m right beside you.”

By the time the show ends, Keith feels breathless as though he’s run a marathon. His body feels strangely heavy and all he can focus on is the weight of Shiro’s palm against his.

The holographic stars still sparkle around them, washing them in a cool blue tone but they’re mostly stationary now. The image above them snaps back from the vast expanse of their galaxy, back down to the sol system and lingers there. A few people get up to leave when the display doesn’t change any further but neither of them are ready to move yet.

“What do you see out there?” Shiro asks him as he stares up. A vision of Earth slowly rotates around their sun and tiny purple dots mark the location of each man-made station in orbit or colony in the outer reaches. 

And in between, nothing but long empty stretches of nothing. Emptiness.

Death.

They didn’t mention it in the show, but everyone knows the stories. It had been burned into humanity’s consciousness too violently not to and they stand even more vividly in the forefront of Keith’s mind after the visit to the memorial. The rush to get to the stars, the space race, too many chances taken, too many lives lost. A crew of one of the original missions, floating in the black expanse, so far from home, from the people that loved them. No hope of rescue, just waiting to die. Until their food ran out, their water ran out, their life support succumbed.

“They made it seem so beautiful,” Keith says quietly about the show. He can’t quite explain the sudden ice in his veins. He has the distinct urge to shift into Shiro’s seat and curl against his chest. Burrow himself down into Shiro’s heart so that even the galaxies can’t separate them. 

He gets to his feet instead.

“It _is_ beautiful,” Shiro tells him as he follows.

“It’s suffocation.,” Keith hears himself say. He doesn’t move. His legs feel too heavy, heavy with the weight of the rows of names of those lost that adorned the walls around the blue flamed briar. “It’s floating in a tin can waiting to die.”

Shiro gives Keith a glance and then turns his face up to the stars. The way the holographic stars wash over the planes of his face give Keith feel an odd sense of displacement, like he’s been here in this moment before, at Shiro’s side surrounded by starlight.

He shivers.

“Cold?” Shiro asks gently. 

Keith is, but on the inside. Suddenly cold in his soul and he’s immeasurably grateful when Shiro drapes his heavy arm over his shoulder and draws him close. He tries not to curl his fingers into claws against Shiro’s shirt, unsure why he feels suddenly like if he doesn’t hold Shiro tightly enough, he’ll slip through his fingers and dissipate into starlight.

“You really love it don’t you?” he asks Shiro after a moment. The reverence in his gaze as stares up at the final display makes Keith’s teeth itch.

It takes Shiro a long time to answer.

“Not as much as I used to,” he says. There’s a thread in his voice, something that might be disbelief, or maybe even wonder. “I barely think about it now.”

Keith doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure he can. His breath is stuck in his lungs and it’s not until Shiro’s hand cups his cheek and his lips find him that he releases himself enough to sink back into Shiro’s orbit.

Keith can’t explain it, the sudden neediness that thrums through him. The show was heavily scientific and fact based, driving home how tiny their world, their reality really was.

Just a couple of specs in the cosmos.

But they’d found each other and somehow, Keith needs the reassurance he’s not dreaming it all, that Shiro is real and his and that he’s going to wake up in the morning and Shiro’s going to be right there beside him.

“Keith, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith blinks. Then gives himself a shake. “Yeah, sorry. That was weird. I feel weird. Can we go home now?”

 

* * *

 

Shiro had planned to talk to Keith about the garrison and the offer that Commander Iverson had laid on the table for him at the sky dome, but he’d taken one look at his husband’s face after the show ended and squashed that idea into dust.

He wasn’t sure what to make of the way Keith stared at those sparkling holographic stars, those winking shapes that signified all of humanity’s reach for the expanse and as far as they could beyond.

But it wasn’t what he had expected.

He’d expected awe, perhaps. Maybe astonishment or excitement. What he saw instead looked an awful lot like fear.

They’re both quiet as they walk back to the car. It’s a longer hike than Shiro remembers, having parked it out behind one of the unused hangars out on the airfield to stay away from the crowds. It’s not a well-lit area of the base and when they find it, the car is bathed in moonlight and not much else.

Keith yawns.

“Long day, huh?” Shiro says as they approach it. Keith nods, flicking a small smile at him. It might be dark now, the sounds of the night crowding around them but even in the darkness Shiro recognises that smile.

He snags Keith’s hand before he can move to the passenger side.

“I’ve been waiting to do this all day,” he says, tugging Keith to his chest and sliding his free hand into the back of Keith’s hair. He lowers his head and presses his lips against Keith’s gently, a possessive kiss that soon expands into something more when Keith opens his mouth and melts under him, early wanting more.

It’s nothing then to cup the side of Keith’s jaw greedily and then he’s hurriedly walking Keith backwards the few steps needed to shove him against the car. Keith almost stumbles, but Shiro guides him back without breaking their kiss.

It’s a hunger, he thinks, his tongue tracing the seam of his husband’s lips as it probes for entry. It’s a hunger that has him craving Keith with the desperate need to chase away the echo of unease that’s settled into his chest after Keith walked away from the simulator run and then again as they left the sky dome. It’s the echo of Iverson, barking at him one moment, then congratulating him warmly the next.  It’s the echo of the boom of the shuttles launching, carrying it’s crew a million miles away from home for months, sometimes years at a time.

Keith makes a small noise under his mouth, his lips parting and Shiro steals inside impatiently. Keith grips Shiro’s shoulders tightly for balance, feet scrambling as Shiro all but devours him and pins him hard against the car door.

God. Keith is everything and Shiro breathes him in like he’s the last breath of oxygen he’ll ever get.

“Shiro,” Keith pants, when they have to surface for air. His eyes are wide and startled, then he offers one slow blink before his hand steals higher to clasp roughly at the back of Shiro’s neck. “Kiss me like that again.”

Shiro doesn’t need to be told twice. He goes from nuzzling against his husband’s cheek to seizing his mouth again, relishing the feel and taste of him against his tongue. Everything about Keith makes his blood sing. He tilts his head, changing the angle of their kiss until it’s impossibly deep and messy but through it all Keith meets him with an answering deprivation. His bionic hand lays at the base of Keith’s throat, heavy and grounding as though without it, they might both float away.

“I love you,” he grounds out in the spaces between their lips. It rolls around inside him, wild like a tempest, uncontrollable and all consuming. He can’t contain it, he doesn’t want to. He wants to live in this storm for the rest of his life.

How could anything else compare? It doesn’t. It couldn’t.

Not even the stars shone as brightly as the man wrapped around him in that moment.

Keith’s answer is breathless, almost dizzyingly drunk, a slurred promise that turns into a low whine when Shiro presses their hips together. Keith squirms under him, fingers clutching weakly at his shirt until Shiro realises and he shifts one foot, sliding his thigh between Keith’s knees and swallowing back a hum when Keith tries to curl a leg around him.

“Shiro,” Keith groans. “Takashi, Tak- _ahhh-“_

Keith’s low whimper is cut off when Shiro slides his hands down. He bunches a handful of Keith’s uniform in his fist and yanks it out of his pants. One more movement and he finds Keith’s belt buckle, making quick work of it with his bionic hand. Dimly he registers the new speed and ease it offers, the coordination that has it operating as seamlessly as though it was flesh. He makes a faint mental note to thank Hunk and then his hand is brushing against Keith’s heated flesh and he can’t think of anything else but his husband.

“Shiro,” Keith shudders again. He’s hot like a brand, dribbling from his tip and Shiro experiences a savage kind of pride. Keith was straining for _him_. Keith was hard like this for _him_. “Shiro, I can’t-“

Keith’s voice dies in a gasp when Shiro switches hands. It would be awkward if they weren’t already so well versed in each other but they are and Shiro flicks his thumb through the moisture pooling from his husband. He mouths against Keith’s throat, travelling up against Keith’s jaw and burying his nose in the sensitive space behind Keith’s ear.

“You’re the best thing in my life,” Shiro murmurs and he presses another kiss there.

The desperation driving him is strong. Unexplainable. It’s a different kind of hunger tonight and he doesn’t care to pause to examine why. _You already know,_ a voice whispers somewhere at the back of his mind, but he ignores it.  Instead, he pauses long enough to lick down his palm, adding extra wetness before sliding it back into Keith’s briefs.

God, he loves the way Keith feels in his grasp, the soft sounds he makes. His head hangs back, Shiro’s metal fingers curl and grip his hair almost harshly but Keith doesn’t complain, he doesn’t fight it.  Shiro raises his head, watching the moon reflect in Keith’s blown out eyes before laying a kiss against Keith’s lips.

“I want to be inside you so badly,” he whispers brokenly. His voice is so rough and he’s consumed with a fire he can’t seem to bank. He’s burning in a way he hasn’t before, he needs Keith in a way that has less to do with burning off the high from the flight and more to do with the way it looked when Keith walked away from him in the simulation room.  He needs Keith under him, around him. He needs to place his stamp on his husband’s body again.

He needs to remind Keith what they have.

Keith makes a small whimper and he jerks, trying to thrust into Shiro’s palm. It’s dark where they are, isolated this far away into the now silent airfields. There’s no one around them, no one to see. They’re pressed together so tightly all he would need to do is spin Keith around and bend him forward enough to slot against him. And Shiro wants to. He wants to - desperately.

Keith tightens his hands where they grip Shiro’s shoulders. His fingers are strong and they dig into the corded muscle there. “I don’t have anything.”

Shiro’s breath leaves his chest in a whoosh. He searches his mind for options. Was Keith really going to let him do this?

“I might.”

For a single beat, Keith goes still and silent and Shiro holds his breath.

“Then do it,” Keith bites out, eyes now closed against the stars over his head, his neck still offered up like a sacrifice. “Right here. Right now. I’m yours.”

Shiro pauses long enough to exhale out Keith’s name, then he’s scrambling for his bag, previously dumped at their feet a second before he shoved Keith against the car. He rummages, hoping and praying they have something. It’s not much but it’s enough that he’s able to guide Keith around and press him chest first into the car, shoving away the material of his uniform only enough for him to delve one hand into the crease of his cheeks and seek out his heated entrance.

“Are you sure?” Shiro murmurs. He’s aching and hard, and he’s sure he has a damp patch on the front of his jeans.

“Yes, fuck, Shiro, yes, I want it. I want you.”

It’s all Shiro needs.

Keith groans as soon as he makes contact, and Shiro experiences a flash of unease that he’s going too fast, that he’s being too rushed but he knows Keith’s sounds now. He knows when Keith is feeling good and the way Keith’s groan turns into a low gasp of pleasure, Shiro knows he’s playing Keith beautifully.

And Keith is beautiful, never more so than with his hand splayed against the car’s roof, his cheek pressed to the cool metal and moonlight washing over his features.

“Shiro,” Keith shudders in his arms, and he spreads his legs as far as he can given the limit of his pants still bunched around his thighs. “Give it to me,” he says. His voice is choppy, his breath rough. Shiro cups him in his hands, a small squeeze just to hear more of the sounds Keith makes.

The small whine he utters is one of the most beautiful things Shiro has ever heard.

“You want this, baby?”

“Yes,” Keith sighs. “Fuck, yes. Shiro, you know I do.” There’s an inhalation of breath in the moonlight. Shiro loves hearing him beg. “Please.”

Shiro fumbles with his metal hand for the button on his jeans, popping it open and shoving them enough out of the way until he can feel the night on his heated skin. The slick he has isn’t a lot and there’s a flicker of worry as he notches himself against Keith’s entrance and presses forward. Keith keens into the night air, then tries to muffle it against his arm, biting into the material of his uniform.

“Keith, god-“  Shiro groans heavily as Keith’s heat greets him. There’s enough resistance that he’s about to pull back, work Keith open a bit more but Keith digs his nails into where they clutch at his forearm so hard he’s almost surprised not to see blood.

“Keep going,” Keith hisses.

Shiro leans over his shoulder to kiss him, licking into Keith’s mouth as he pushes forward. There’s a gasp, so soft and distant he’s not sure if it came from him or Keith but when he rocks forward again he decides he doesn’t care. He curls his arms around Keith’s waist, holding him tightly against his chest and its exactly what Keith wants. One more breath and he’s slid home to the hilt and panting against Keith’s ear at how good he feels, how right, how perfect, how he’d shot through the clouds and it was Keith’s face he saw behind his eyes.

“You,” he murmurs against his husband’s ear. Keith quivers around him. “Up there. It was you I was thinking about,” he says with no small amount of awe as he begins to draw back. Keith moans and swears softly before turning his face to seek out Shiro’s mouth again.

“Shiro, Shiro- _Takashi-“_

It’s the sound of that name on Keith’s lips that makes him tighten. He keeps his arms tight around Keith’s chest like a vice, breathing into the side of his neck. He knows Keith must be feeling it, one hand is reaching down, seeking a way to move against the weight of Shiro on him. 

“I love you,” Shiro flicks his hips against Keith again and again, possessive and hard, surging and finally spilling into him, his heart racing even harder than when he was tumbling through the clouds in the jet.

He wonders what it means when the ground is falling away beneath him he’s still thinking of the man who wears his ring. He wonders if he’ll end up in the stars, still yearning for what’s in front of him.

 

* * *

 

When they get home and tumble into the shower, Shiro tries to send an exhausted Keith to bed but he refuses, padding back down the stairs after Shiro and collapsing against his chest as they sprawl on the couch. Shiro is tired, but his mind is still churning with the events of the day and he knows if he tries to go to bed, he’ll just end up staring at the ceiling anyway.

He tries to shut out his thoughts and focus on slow, languid kisses against Keith, too sated from earlier to do anything more than indulge in the slide of their lips and the dip of their tongues. Even their hands don’t travel, content to rest where they land and it’s sweet and warm and an entirely different kind of tumble in the clouds that soothes something inside of him he hadn’t realised was so restless.

Then Keith falls asleep mid-kiss and Shiro laughs quietly to himself as he tucks his husband into a more comfortable position against his side.

It works though. They both get what they want – Keith dozes against Shiro, wedged securely between the back of the lounge and Shiro’s body, and Shiro gets to soak up the warmth of his husband without fear his voice or his worries will betray him with something he’s not ready to voice out loud yet.

Cowardly? Perhaps. But he’s still trying to work out how he feels.

A movie plays on the TV in the background but he doesn’t follow it.

The minutes tick past and his mind whirls and whirls, going over the events of the day. Not only had he been able to steal a glimpse into Keith’s background with Careflight, he’d been able to draw Keith into a small part of his world too.

He still wondered how they would fit together, if they could. The look of reproach in Keith’s expression after the simulator run sat behind his eyes. Keith hadn’t said much after the memorial or the sky dome either, introspective on the walk back to the car. Shiro wanted to believe it was fatigue but his stomach churns faintly with the worry it’s something else. He hadn’t been able to contain himself, he’d needed that reassurance of Keith around him. And Keith, it seemed, had needed it too.

Keith lies over him, breathing deep in slumber and drooling slightly into the material of Shiro’s shirt. He looks so much younger when he’s asleep, the sharp lines of his jaw soften, his lips part and the slightest of snores as the air whistles between his teeth. He strokes a hand over Keith’s dark hair, smiling to himself when Keith makes a small noise like a hum and tries to burrow closer. Who would have guessed that Keith with his prickly edges could be such a cuddler? Maybe he’s not, maybe it’s just something special that Shiro brings out in him.

He hopes that it is.

A few beats pass and Keith stills, sliding into that deep sleep like the dead. The light from the TV shimmers over his face and Shiro’s mind wanders. He thinks he might even have dozed himself when a small snore falls out of his husband’s slack mouth and he’s filled with such a wealth of warmth and affection at the sound he can’t help but chuckle quietly. The silent shake of his shoulders jostles Keith enough that his eyes snap open and he lifts his head.

It was unnerving how he could do that. Deep asleep one second, wide wake and focused the next.

“Sorry,” Shiro says apologetically, still trying to hold back a laugh. Keith would growl like a feral animal at him if he knew what he was laughing at and Keith gets a little cranky when he is tired. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What time is it?”

“Late. We should probably go up to bed.”

“Yeah,” Keith blinks once then pushes himself upright. He spots the small wet patch on Shiro’s shirt and grimaces. “Shit.”

“You were out cold,” Shiro tells him helpfully.

“I was tired,” Keith mutters. He blinks again, slow enough that it almost looks like he’s falling back asleep sitting up.  Shiro nudges him gently and Keith’s eyes snap open and his lip curls with half a snarl. “What.”

Shiro laughs quietly. “You’re so grumpy when you’re half asleep.”

Keith huffs and mumbles something under his breath that Shiro can’t catch but he shuffles to the edge of the couch and stands, reaching a hand down to Shiro where he still lies back. Shiro is content to let Keith pull him to his feet, stealing a quick kiss even as Keith grumbles something else and wanders towards the stairs. He doesn’t look back to check Shiro is following him because he knows without a doubt that he is.

Shiro pauses long enough to wave a hand at the TV, shutting it down along with the lights as he follows Keith upstairs to their bedroom. Black is already curled up in their bed and it’s a delicate balancing act to slide under the sheet without getting a claw in the skin but somehow, they manage. Shiro curls around Keith, needing to keep him close and he places a hand over the centre of his chest to count the beats of his heart.

“Is everything okay?” Keith says a short time later in the darkness. The fact he’s still awake tells Shiro he’s probably been wanting to ask the question for a while.

Shiro hesitates to answer. He thinks about what Iverson told him. That he needed to hurry up a make a decision, but before he can do that, he needs to talk to Keith. He needs to talk to his husband and find out where this would leave them.

The uneasy feeling sits heavy in his gut, lurking in the depth of him like a monster ready to snatch away his happiness. Because it will. He knows it like the way he knows the cadence of Keith’s breathing when he’s under him, or the way his voice gets lighter when he’s happy. He knows the offer will change things between them and he doesn’t want it to. He wants to ride out this bubble of unaffected joy for as long as he can. For as long as Keith will have him.

There’s a streak of silver on the ceiling from the street light outside and Black gets up, turns in a circle before settling back down right on top of his feet.

“Yeah,” he finally answers. His embrace around his husband gets a little tighter. “Just need some sleep I guess.”

 

* * *

 

Morning has Keith blinking awake to the sounds of the birds warbling on the balcony. The doors are open, letting the sounds of the neighbourhood leak in and the sheer curtain shifts when Black wanders in, the shimmery material catching on the end of his tail and leaving a dusting of black fur along the edge as he passes.

Keith makes a mental note to do something about that later.

He rolls over, searching out the body heat of his husband even though he knows it won’t be there.  Shiro has obviously already been up for a while, judging by the way Black isn’t trying to stalk over his pillow to demand breakfast. 

“Hi buddy,” he murmurs, lazily stretching against the sheets. Black jumps up, sitting upright with his paws tucked close and bright gold eyes watching him warily. Keith watches him back. He knows this game. It’s a little game that he and Black have started to play together, despite Shiro laughing in the background and warning him he’s probably going to end up the loser.

He moves his hand under the sheet, slowly enough that the movement twigs Blacks attention then he pauses. He waits a beat until Black looks away, then moves his hand again, this time a sharper movement that is impossible for Black to ignore.  The cat’s eyes go wide and his butt begins to wriggle and then Keith shifts his hand again, only to have Black pounce and wrap sharp claws around Keith’s arm and kick with claws out. Keith winces when Black’s not so playful bites get added to the mix and then he’s half laughing and half grimacing as he tries to pry his hand away.

“I told you that game was going to end in tears one day,” Shiro shakes his head as he pads into the room, holding a mug of something that smells an awful lot like the coffee Keith is suddenly, desperately craving.

“Who’s crying?” Keith says, but he holds up a hand that’s streaked red with scratches. Black retreats to the end of the bed when Shiro takes a seat on the edge and starts to groom himself casually, avoiding eye contact with either human. “Black and I have an understanding.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything as he hands over the mug.

“Is this for me?” Keith curls his hands around it gratefully. The scratches sting a little but none of the skin is broken enough to bleed.

“Well, I don’t think Black is going to drink it. Besides, he’s highly strung enough as it is.”

Keith huffs a laugh into his drink, releasing a huge sigh once the first sip swirls on his tongue. He blinks, glancing down at the mug in surprise. “This is different.”

“Caramel infused,” Shiro informs him smugly. He offers Keith a sly look that has Keith narrowing his eyes. “Figured you might need some sweetening up.”

“Ass,” Keith mutters, playfully indignant. It makes him beam on the inside though. It makes him ridiculously happy that Shiro knows his first coffee of the day needs to be sweet and creamy, the rest following bitter and dark. The notion that Shiro not only knew that but had taken steps to make sure he had it makes him feel warm. He takes another sip as Shiro scratches Black under the chin. “Thank you,” he says softly, his voice full of love.

Shiro leans over to brush his lips against his temple, a sweet little gesture that has Keith’s heart flipping over. His mind flicks back to the night before, the daring shove against the car and Shiro curled around him, Shiro hard and possessive and fierce in all the ways Keith was starting to discover he craved. It’s a contrast to the sweetness now, the tender way Shiro looks at him, full of honey and affection and Keith counts his lucky stars he gets to have both sides of him. Both parts, for the rest of his life.

He blinks slightly when Shiro cocks his head, wondering if his thoughts were broadcasting so clearly on his face when Shiro’s smile turns knowing.

“What?” Keith ducks his head, faintly embarrassed to be caught waxing lyrical over his feelings for Shiro even if they were only on the inside.

“Nothing,” Shiro says quietly, a small huff of breath sliding out between his smile.  “Just thinking how lucky I am.”

“Yeah?” Keith sits up a little, his coffee cradled in his hand. “Huh.”

“You know, I got a call from Lotor of all people this morning.”

Keith’s warm sleepy buzz dissipates quickly. “What did he want?” he asks, even though he already knows. They’d had to jump through more of Honerva’s hoops over the past few days, first the homestay with his uncles, then dinner with the Holts and now they were required to report back.

It was kind of dumb, Keith thinks uncharitably. What did Honerva think they were going to do? Never see their families? Or was the experiment just trying to push hard enough something might snap and then the scientists will be able to sit back and analyse it while they flap in the wind.

“Well, they want to interview us after the weekend of course, but Lotor also brought something up.”

Keith frowns unhappily. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Don’t look so down. This is actually good news.”

“Are they going to release us from the contract early?” Keith mutters around a sip of coffee.

“Funny you should say that. Lotor says he’s found something. Some kind of loophole that might get Honerva out of our hair sooner rather than later. What do you think about that? Want to go it alone?”

“What? No more interviews? No more video diaries?”

Shiro laughs. “We haven’t done a video diary since we got back from the honeymoon.”

“Can’t say I miss them.”

“No,” Shiro says, running his eye over Keith appraisingly.  “You weren’t too keen on them. You look good on camera though, baby. Should have been a movie star.”

Keith snickers into his coffee at Shiro’s teasing but it quickly turns into a choked noise at the back of his throat when Shiro continues. “I think we still have the camera around somewhere.”

Keith’s eyes go wide as Shiro slides a hand up his thigh, too deliberate to be anything casual. He breathes out.

“Shiro-“

A beat later, Shiro removes his hand with a small laugh. It’s a good thing too since Keith’s grasp on his hot coffee was dangerously listing sideways. He didn’t fancy wearing it in his lap.

“Why would Lotor help us? What’s in it for him? Why help us?” he finally asks.

“Maybe he wants to stick it to Honerva, who knows?” Shiro shrugs after a moment of thought. “We’ve done everything they’ve asked. We’ve done what they wanted until now, maybe Lotor sees that.” Shiro pauses. “Or maybe he’s trying to get into Matt’s good graces.”

Keith wrinkles his nose at that. He suspects Lotor’s been in Matt’s graces since his and Shiro’s wedding day but he’s not about to bring that up now. It hurt his brain to think about Matt and Lotor together.

“I just… I didn’t actually expect that they would release us before the eight weeks were up. What are we now? Week three?”

“Week four I think. Wait, I’ve lost count too,” Shiro laughs.

“Feels like so much longer.”

“Yeah,” Shiro smiles at him warmly. “It does. I feel like I can’t remember a time before I had you in my life. I don’t want to.”

Keith places the mug of coffee onto the nightstand so he can drape his arms around Shiro’s neck and slide into his lap. “Me neither,” he says softly, leaning down for a soft caramel flavoured kiss. “And I can’t wait to tell all those old cronies over at Komar HQ to go to hell and leave us alone.”

Shiro’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter. “We wouldn’t have each other if it wasn’t for those old cronies,” he points out. “But after today…”

“Just you and me.”

Shiro presses a kiss to Keith’s lips and Keith leans into it. His eyes flutter open and when they do, the darkness gone from Shiro’s expression. He wonders if he imagined it.

“Yeah,” Shiro says softly. His gaze drops to Keith’s lips and it goes a little dark in a way that Keith doesn’t quite understand. “Just you and me against the universe.”

 

* * *

 

When Keith comes downstairs, freshly showered with his damp hair pushed back from his face, Shiro is shuffling in a package from the front door and signing a delivery slip.

“What’s that?” Keith asks.

“This is one of the paintings we picked out from the gallery,” Shiro tells him. He’s already started to tug at the protective card and bubble wrap around the canvas. “I can’t wait to see what you chose.”

Keith experiences an odd flutter of nerves. “It’s okay if you hate it, we don’t have to put it up anywhere.”

Shiro ignores that, peeling away the final parts of the wrapping until the image is displayed in all its glory. It’s just how Keith remembers it, all-encompassing and still offering a dizzy sensation when he looks at it. Like he’s getting a glimpse into another reality.

He blinks the thought away just as Shiro rocks back on his heels. He exhales roughly.

“Wow, Keith. Just… wow.”

Keith walks over to Shiro slowly and Shiro stands. He folds his arms around Keith’s waist and drops his chin onto Keith’s shoulder. “You did good,” he says softly.

“I don’t know why I chose this one,” Keith says after a few quiet beats. He wonders if Shiro gets the same odd sensation when he looks at it too.  “It just spoke to me.”

“It’s beautiful. Kind of like what we have.”

Keith huffs softly, leans his head back for a kiss and Shiro obliges. “You’re such a romantic.”

“I know what I’ve got,” Shiro shrugs. He steals another kiss before stepping back and releasing Keith to pick up the canvas instead.  “Where should we put it? Above the bed?”

“Yeah, so I can look at it while I fuck you,” Keith adds cheekily and it makes Shiro laugh and flash him a heated glance over his shoulder as Shiro starts to carry it upstairs.

“Love your confidence, babe,” Shiro says with a smirk as Keith trails up after him. Keith shrugs nonchalantly but inside his body feels like it’s lighting up over the way Shiro calls him that so easily, so comfortably. It’s still these tiny moments of belonging to someone, of being part of a couple, of being _married_ that still makes his brain stutter.

“Where are the tools?” he says instead. They’re going to need a hammer and some nails for this.

“Study,” Shiro tells him absently, still holding the painting and staring down at it. Keith ducks into the spare room, glancing around curiously until he walks to the cupboard. He hasn’t been in here much, any work they need to do tends to happen downstairs in the kitchen counter, usually while the other is pottering around assembling a meal.

There’s not much there, a mostly empty desk, a few files with the galaxy garrison’s logo on it and a brochure for a luxury cat hotel that makes Keith crack up before he pulls open the cupboard door and searches around for the tool kit.

When he walks back into the room, he slides the kit onto the bedside table and stands back at the foot of the bed while Shiro leans over to line up the canvas on the wall.  He hoists it above the bed. 

“How’s this?”

“Mm, a little to the left.” 

Shiro shifts over. His arms are extended and the muscles of his back ripple with the movement under his fitted shirt. He’s balanced with half a foot on the floor and a knee on the bed, frowning adorably as he tries to position the painting. 

It’s too much.

“What about now?”

Keith struggles to swallow when Shiro’s shirt starts to ride up. And those jeans. He’s always in soft jeans worn within an inch of their life. Somehow the simple outfit and bare feet make Keith’s body feel hot. “Almost.”

“Okay,” Shiro chuckles. “So which way?” There’s a long enough pause silence that Shiro’s brow furrows. “Keith?”

Shiro glances over his shoulder and Keith pounces, pulling the canvas out of his husband’s hands and dropping it to the floor before he pulls Shiro down on top of him. Shiro makes a surprised little noise as he comes down and the bed springs squeak slightly under the bouncing weight of them.

Keith slides a knee between Shiro’s thighs and scrapes his teeth gently along Shiro’s neck, just the way he likes it. Shiro hisses through his teeth then it quickly turns into a rough, shaky exhale of breath.

“A little to the left, huh?” Shiro laughs quietly when Keith shoves his hands under his shirt, letting his fingertips trail over his skin, tracing over the warm muscles and the bumps of his spine.

“We can put it up later,” Keith mutters a breath before diving in for another kiss. Shiro curls around him.

The canvas sits forgotten on the floor.

 

* * *

 

It’s weird to be sitting back in the interview room at Komar HQ with Honerva and a handful of scientists in front of them. Lotor is there too, hovering in the corner with the usual indiscernible expression on his face that Keith was used to.

“Your connection runs deep,” Honerva is saying. “But I still encourage you to see out the eight weeks-“

“You told us you’d help us find our soulmate. Our perfect match,” Shiro interrupts. He looks directly at Keith and takes his hand, cradling it in his palm right there in front of everyone even though it’s Honerva he’s speaking to. The smile he offers is precious, and only for Keith. “Well, you found mine. We’ve done everything that you’ve asked. The experiment was a success, but now we just want to get on with living our lives.”

Honerva’s lips pinch into a tight line but Keith only registers this out of the corner of his eye. His gaze is focused on his husband, whatever numinous bond it was between them thrumming loud in the face of the people who linked them together in the first place.

His heart echoes every word Shiro says.

“Very well,” Honerva nods once then pushes forward a tablet. “Then all you need to do is sign these to confirm that you are choosing to exit the program of your own violation and any offers counselling or support will be withdrawn. From here, you will be on your own.”

Keith’s face splits into a grin at those words and Shiro takes the tablet without hesitation, quickly signing. He hands it to Keith and his gaze flickers once to Lotor, his expression unreadable, before he signs.

And just like that, they’re free.

No more interviews, no more tests, no more poking and prodding at their relationship or manufactured conflict.

He knows they’re bound to have bumps in the road but from now, it will be their bumps and theirs alone.

“So that’s it,” he murmurs as they step outside into the sunshine hand in hand. The Komar HQ buildings recede into the background behind them. It’s surreal. The experiment changed the course of their lives but now they were done with it.

A tiny, miniscule part of him feels guilty that they’re cutting and running early, but the selfish part of him reminds him that they’re different. They’re the exception to the rule, the one success. Where the other couples paired up might be failing, they were only going from strength to strength.

“Yes,” Shiro says. He’s smiling, tilting his face briefly into the sun before dropping his gaze to look at Keith. His eyes are warm and hopeful and shining with all the affection that Keith knows is reflected in his.  “Just you and me against the universe, baby.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro directs him to pull over halfway into the drive to Lance and Allura’s apartment and he’s out of the car before Keith can question why they’re stopping. He’s gone for a handful of minutes before he’s back, a huge bouquet of pale pink flowers in his hands.

“You shouldn’t have,” Keith deadpans.

“I didn’t,” Shiro tells him with a laugh. “They’re for Allura. We’re celebrating today, right?”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “Yeah,” he repeats, more firmly this time and then he’s curling a hand over a bunch of material of Shiro’s shirt and pulling him in for a quick, hard kiss.

“Okay?” Shiro chuckles when Keith leans back and puts the car back into gear. “So, I did good? Lance isn’t going to be weird about it, is he?”

“No,” Keith shakes his head. “No way. I’m pretty sure you’ve just bought Lance’s undying loyalty for life with that gesture. Anyone who treats Allura well is automatically golden in Lance’s book.”

“Huh,” Shiro looks down at the flowers as Keith drives. The black sportscar growls around them. “I know how he feels.”

 

* * *

 

“Keith! Where is he? Is he here? Keith!”

“Oh, no,” Keith whispers, frozen in the doorway to Lance’s apartment along the river, housed in the old converted woolsheds. It’s a warm space, exposed brick lining one wall and high ceilings, surprisingly stylish a lot like Lance himself. “It’s Veronica.”

“Veronica?”

“Lance’s sister. She’s great, but inten-“

He doesn’t get to say much else before a woman that looks enough like Lance that there can be no doubt they are related stomps to the doorway. She’s got a tiny bundle nestled against her shoulder but it doesn’t stop her from barrelling towards Keith and throwing her arm around him and yanking him into a one-armed hug. She’s strong enough that he can’t resist even if he wanted too.

“Ronnie,” he half winces, half laughs. He’s conscious of the weight against her chest. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Neither did I, surprise visit. I was thrilled when Lance told me you were coming over.” She releases him so he can step back. She pokes him once in the chest with a sharp jab of a finger. “I can’t believe you went and got married and I missed it!”

“Well, you were kind of in labour-“

“I know, can you believe it? Shitty timing from this one,” she says, gently lowering the newborn from her shoulder to the crook of her arm. She smiles down fondly. “He should know how much I love a good wedding.”

She runs a gentle fingertip down the baby’s cheek briefly her gaze flicks up and pins itself to Shiro, standing in silent bemusement behind Keith.

“Well, hello there handsome.”

Shiro chuckles then even as Keith releases a mock growl. “Hey, hands off.”

“Oh, pssh,” she waves at hand at him dismissively, a move that’s so inherently Lance that Keith has to double take. Honestly though, what did he expect? Of all his siblings, Veronica and Lance were enough alike they could be twins, despite a good seven-year age difference.

Veronica nimbly steps around Keith to reach up and peck Shiro quickly and warmly on the cheek.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Shiro. I hope you like babies.”

“You too, and ah- what?”

“Ronnie,” Keith says in exasperation but Veronica is already tugging Shiro deeper into the apartment by the sleeve of his white henley. He trails after them just as Lance comes around the corner from the kitchen.

“Hey, you made it. What took you so long?”

Keith exchanges a glance with Shiro and coughs into his hand. “Uh, something came up.”

Shiro lets out a strangled snort and tries to hide it by clearing his throat. Lance narrows his eyes.

“You guys were doing the do, weren’t you? That’s why you’re late.”

“No,” Keith protests feebly and Lance thumps him lightly on the arm.

“Actually, we stopped to sign the paperwork to release us from the experiment,” Shiro says.

“Yeah?” Lance’s eyes go wide. “So that’s it? You guys are free now?”

“Yep. No more interviews, or video diaries, or being told where to go-“

“Or what to do,” Keith adds.

“Nope.” Shiro catches his eye, flooding him with warmth.  “We’re on our own now.”

“Wow,” Lance lets out a low whistle. “Well, I guess that’s just another reason to celebrate today.”

It’s hard to tell but there’s something faintly hesitant in Lance’s voice that makes Keith look at him sharply but Lance is staring at the flowers he’s holding.

“Where’s Allura anyway?” Keith asks.

“She’s upstairs unpacking. Who are those for?”

“Shiro got these for Allura, since her moving in is kind of a big deal for you guys.”

Lance’s eyes light up and he takes the flowers from Keith’s hands. There’s a funny little expression on his face when he slides a glance in Shiro’s direction but his lips curve. Keith knows him well enough to know how pleased he is by Shiro’s gesture, and Keith’s prediction that Lance is about to pledge his undying loyalty to Shiro is about to come true.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get two,” Shiro says apologetically, looking at Veronica but she smiles and waves him away. “I didn’t know we’d be seeing you too.”

“I’m allergic anyway.”

“Oh,” he laughs. “Alright then.”

Allura comes down the stairs then, looking like an ethereal barefoot goddess in a soft blue floral sundress that shows off the lean lines of her shoulders. She’s got her hair piled high on the top of her head, no doubt on account of oppressive heat that is slowly starting to build despite the apartment being on the river and catching the breeze off the water.

“Keith, Shiro,” she greets them both warmly, giving Shiro a kiss on the cheek that makes him flush adorably when she realises the flowers are for her. Every time he thinks he couldn’t possibly love Shiro more, his heart swells a little larger and the consideration for the people important in Keith’s life is something he won’t soon forget.

But that was Shiro all over, kind and golden and warm like the sun.

“Alright, there are five adults in this room and I’m still the one holding the baby. This isn’t what I came over for,” Veronica suddenly pipes up. She eyeballs Keith hard enough that he sighs inwardly, not even bothering to attempt to avoid it.

“Okay, hand him over.”

“Much better,” she says, laying the baby into Keith’s arms. “Now I might actually get a chance to drink a whole coffee before it gets cold for the first time in a month.”

“Don’t count on it,” Lance snickers, only to yelp when she pinches him on the arm. Keith laughs but he’s looking down at the tiny baby, less than a month old in his arms.

“He’s pretty cute,” he tells Veronica.

“No, he’s not. He looks like a little wrinkled old man. It’s okay, you can say it.”

“Hey, I thought he looked like me,” Lance protests. He leans over, peering into the baby’s face. He’s fast asleep for now, peaceful with what Keith assumes to be a full belly and lots of ambient noise around him.

“That’s my point,” Veronica tells him and he frowns at her and suddenly they’re squabbling in hushed whispers in Spanish before Allura steps in and shoos Lance into the kitchen to get his sister a drink.

The baby stirs, starting to squawk and Keith resettles him against his shoulder, patting his back and shushing. Shiro looks at him in a way that reminds him oddly of the day before, sitting in the simulator. It makes him feel uneasy. “What?”

“I had no idea you were so good with babies.”

Keith’s lips quirk then, a small self-conscious little smile and he relaxes. “Part of the job. One of the better parts, actually.”

“Yeah?” Shiro looks impressed. Lance comes back with a mug of coffee for Veronica that she all but snatches out of his hands.

“We’ve even delivered babies,” Lance informs Shiro, puffing out his chest. 

“You mean Allura and Sven have, we just provide support.”

“No, there was one last year that I did on my own. A boy too.”

“Oh yeah,” Keith concedes. “I forgot about that one.”

“All those deliveries and not one named after me,” Lance sighs dramatically. “It’s a tragedy.”

Keith feels Shiro’s eyes on him but his expression is one Keith can’t decipher. He raises an eyebrow. “Want a cuddle?”

“What?” Shiro blinks and steps back. Actually, physically steps back. It makes Keith laugh quietly. He feels a little smug to have the upper hand for once. Usually it was Shiro who was the self-assured and fearless one between them.

“He won’t bite.”

Shiro watches the baby warily for a moment before his shoulders straighten and a determined line settles against his lips. “Sure, okay. But-“

He looks down at his bionic arm, worrying the tech will be too hard and unyielding for a baby and it’s on the tip of Keith’s tongue to tell him it’s not from his own experiences of having it wrapped around him but he settles for laying a soft blanket against it for extra padding to put Shiro’s mind at ease. He hands the baby over then, settling the infant securely into Shiro’s big arms and steps back.

His knees almost give out from under him when he looks up.

There’s something mind altering about seeing his husband with a tiny newborn in his arms, the way Shiro’s bulk curves around it, the soft smile and the look of wonder on his face and the way he stares down and coos. Keith almost stumbles as he backs away, bumping into Veronica who gives him a very knowing smile as she steers him into the kitchen.

“Something pretty special about seeing the man you’ve agreed to spend the rest of your life with holding a baby, huh?”

It takes a second for Keith to catch his breath and find his voice. What the hell, why did that scene affect him so much? He feels like someone drove a truck into him then got out and jumped on his lungs. “Yeah,” he agrees, his voice slightly strangled. “Just a bit.”

Veronica cocks a hip against the counter. She looks fresher now, but still bone tired. Keith wants to fuss and ensure she’s taking care of herself but he knows she gets enough of it from Lance. He might be her youngest brother but Lance acts like she’s the baby in the family.

“Lance said he hardly recognizes you lately, that you’ve been really happy. Are you Keith? Are you happy?”

Keith stares into blue eyes that look so much like Lance’s. Veronica’s are slightly darker though, vibrant depths where Lance’s were sparkling shallows. He’s known Veronica as long as he’s known Lance and he’s comfortable enough with her that he lets down his guard slip.

“Yeah,” he says it softly.  “I can hardly believe it. I’m not sure how I got so lucky.”

Veronica looks at him a little strangely then. “You took an incredible leap of faith that took a lot of guts, Keith. I don’t know anyone else who would be brave enough to do what you did. You deserve to be happy. Why do you seem so surprised that you are?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “It almost feels too easy. Too good to be true. Where’s the catch?”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he blinks. He’s not sure where they came from and he frowns uneasily, not sure if he wants to know. He looks away, turning his gaze back to the living room where Shiro sits with the baby asleep in his arms, and the image could so easily be a glimpse of his future he can’t decide if he wants to cry or laugh or be violently sick. The slam against his heart reminds him how much he’s gained, and how much he has to lose.

“Catch? The catch is you have a great guy who wants a life with you. Lance won’t shut up about him. He might be Shiro’s number one fan.”

Keith laughs in spite of himself. “Shiro has that effect on people,” he says, glancing back towards the man in question. He looks mesmerized by the infant he’s holding. The warmth comes back then, overriding the brief flare of panic earlier.

“So, do you think you guys might? Has that come up in conversation yet?”

“What?” It takes him a second to refocus back on Veronica.

“Might start a family one day,” she clarifies.  “I know it’s never been something you’ve wanted in the past but…”

“I don’t know,” he finally answers. It’s honest. He really doesn’t. “I never wanted to but with Shiro…” Keith shakes his head. “Maybe if it was something we did together… maybe.”

“Well, you have plenty of time,” she assures him. “You guys have only just met, you still need time to get to know each other. Have you talked much about exactly what your plans are for the future?”

“Plans?”

“Yes,” she frowns at him. “You’re a couple now. Whatever you do affects both of you. Are you leaving work at work? You’re not signing up for too much overtime, are you?”

“No,” he rolls his eyes. “Trigel has that locked down.”

“Good,” Veronica nods, satisfied. “At least there’s that. Lance’s ideas are usually batshit at the best of times but occasionally my little brother comes out with the goods. Seems like this is one of those times.”

“Yeah,” Keith smiles, despite the drop and rise of his stomach. “It does.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro finds himself almost sad to hand the baby back to Veronica as she bustles out the door. It had been an experience all of its own to sit there with a brand new, tiny human in his arms and not one he’d been through before. There weren’t any newborns around the garrison base and there were certainly none in the Holt household nor would there ever likely to be any if Pidge had anything to say about it. The jury was still out on whether Matt would be able to drag himself away from his work long enough to have a personal life so Colleen had set her hopes firmly on Shiro. The wedding had mollified her temporarily but he knows that soon her laser focus is going to be zeroing in on himself and Keith and he’s not really sure how he’s going to handle that.

He kind of assumed that children would follow a wedding at some point and he wasn’t lying when he told Keith he wouldn’t care if they never went down that path but there’s also a part of him that wonders what it would be like to be a part of that with Keith, to help guide and shape a little version of the best of them into something brave and wonderful.

And then there had been a rumble in the baby’s nappy, a burst of panic and Shiro decides then and there-

_Nope. Not ready for that._

“Shiro?” Keith asks questioningly. He looks up at Shiro, a slight crease marring the space between his eyes. He keeps his voice low, a private moment between them even though the only thing that separates them from Lance and Allura is the kitchen counter. “You feeling okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

Keith doesn’t seem convinced. Shiro’s sure he catches the twitch of his hand out of the corner of his eye, as though Keith wants to reach out and brush a hand over Shiro’s forehead or check his pulse. He makes the effort to smile and leans in to press a light kiss against his husband’s mouth to assure him. “I’m good,” he says again and Keith gives him one more faintly troubled glance before turning back to where Lance and Allura are moving about in the kitchen.

“So, you’re all moved in now, Allura?” he asks in an effort to steer the focus away from him.

“Yes,” she smiles, glancing around the apartment fondly. “It’s always felt more like home here than my own house anyway.”

Lance pauses to slip an arm around her waist and kiss her bare shoulder briefly. The halter tie of her dress makes a pretty bow at the base of her neck. “It took a bit of rearranging but we managed to fit everything in, didn’t we?”

“We did,” she smiles back at him, running the back of her fingers over his cheek and they share a tender glance before stepping apart again.

Shiro notices they do that a lot- the casual caresses, the light touches. Lance seems to never miss an opportunity to let Allura know how treasured she is and when Keith explains later how long it took for them to finally come together, he can understand why that is.

“Keith only had a suitcase when he moved in,” he says. He lays a hand on Keith’s shoulder and gives it a warm squeeze.

“Of course, he did,” Lance rolls his eyes. “Mr Desperado over here. Did you at least take the plant?”

“The plant?” Keith raises an eyebrow incredulously. “You mean the lump of green plastic in a pot you gave me as a housewarming gift?”

Lance looks at Keith and shakes his mournfully. “You are _so_ ungrateful. I should have got you a cactus. Something small and prickly. Like you.”

Even Shiro chokes out a laugh at that, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from his husband.

It’s been a good day. Shiro finds Lance has a similar sense of humour (much to Keith’s chargingly whispered “God, there’s two of you,”) and Allura is sweet and easy to talk but fierce enough that all three men in her vicinity know she’s not to be trifled with. Her relationship with Keith makes him curious though, the two of them rarely seem to talk to each other directly, instead their understanding seems to run deep enough that they communicate in mostly raised eyebrows and half hidden smirks around Lance and Shiro finds himself enjoying this insight he gets to his husband that’s wholly different to what he got with his uncles or lost in a larger group setting.

But as the afternoon wears on, the need to pull Keith away to talk to him starts to itch at the back of his mind and he tries something he’s not done before.

He ignores it.

He’s allowed to have this, he tries to tell himself when the itch tries to intensify. He’s allowed to enjoy this afternoon with Keith and their friends, the light-hearted fun away from the pressures of their jobs and their future. He’s allowed to have this.

The storm must brew too strongly in his eyes because when Keith and Lance settle onto the lounge a short distance away and launch a play through on the games console while they wait for Pidge and Hunk to show up, Allura touches his hand gently.

“I hear I missed quite the show yesterday,” she says. “I wish I could have seen it.”

Shiro’s lips quirk. “It was fun,” he says simply.

Fun doesn’t really begin to cover it. It was fun and exhilarating and gut clenching all at the same time. And afterwards he’d climbed out of the cockpit not really sure how he should be feeling.

But it was a milestone. His first solo flight since the crash a few years back and in that aspect, it had gone like a dream.

The tech in his arm had worked seamlessly enough it was like he never lost it at all, he didn’t experience any flashbacks or loss of control during the flight and Iverson and half the brass had shown faith in him by offering him the chance to go up in the first place.

It was a far cry from a few years ago, standing in front of them protesting the initial findings towards the accident. He wondered privately if they would have been so insistent on pinning the blame on him if neither himself nor Matt had survived it.

And now the garrison wants him back. The garrison who questioned his ability once before, made him fight to clear his name-

What was he doing even considering it? Because that’s what he was doing, wasn’t it? It was why he hadn’t told Keith yet. Hiding behind the experiment, the home visits with their families, the open day itself, any excuse not to open that pandora’s box just yet.

He’d thought he’d laid that dream aside. He thought he had a new dream now.

“You seem distracted,” Allura says, dragging his attention back to the present. She tilts her head, studying him with eyes too wise in her young face. She was closer in age to him at twenty-eight than she was to Lance but sometimes when he looked at her, he felt like he was talking to someone far older. There was something powerful about Allura that he finds himself wanting to lean on. He supposed that’s what made her such a good doctor. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he smiles, forcing that practiced smile back to his lips after a stern mental shake.  God, his head was all over the place after yesterday and the fitful sleep last night. He felt a bit like he couldn’t keep his thoughts straight. “Yeah, I was just thinking about how comfortable this is, and a few weeks ago I didn’t even know you or Lance but already you feel like family.”

Her smile grows wider, warm and kind. “I agree, it is something special. We’re so glad we met you, Shiro,” she leans over to squeeze his hand, his metal one, and for some reason the gesture touches him somewhere deep inside. “I know you and I are going to be great friends.”

“I think you’re right,” he says, a wealth of warmth blossoming inside his chest. “Oh, who is this?” he asks, looking down as a ginger tabby curls around his ankles.

“That’s Kitty Rose,” Allura tells him.  “Keith rescued her on a job a year or so back.”

Shiro’s lips twitch and a memory resurfaces. He looks over at Keith.

“Seriously?”

“What?” Keith’s distracted, busily mashing the buttons on the console in his hands and staring up at the wide view screen.

“You gave me crap about Black’s name and you called your cat _Kitty?”_

It takes a second for Keith to remember the conversation from the first night of their honeymoon then he starts to snicker. “Kitty _Rose_ ,” he emphasises.

Shiro’s tempted to throw a cushion at his head but Keith ends up cursing when Lance suddenly leans into Keith so hard he’s practically on top of him. Keith tries to throw him off but Lance elbows him too hard.

“Aw, yeah, Lancey Lance coming in for the win,” he crows. “Suck on that, mullet!”

Keith lets go of his controller with one hand to reach for one of the pretty decorative cushions nearby. It’s pretty enough that Shiro suspects it might have already been there before Allura moved in. Keith lifts the cushion and tries to beat Lance over the head with it and still move his controller at the same time. It’s an impressive display of skill and Keith grunts in feral satisfaction when Lance has to drop his controller to fend him off with both hands.

“I’m never getting in a helicopter with you again,” Keith informs him a moment after an explosion splashes across the screen along with the words _game over_.

“Yeah, yeah, you said that last time as well.”

A new game starts up and the bickering resumes. Shiro shakes his head and tries not to laugh too loudly when Lance lunges to stick a wet finger in Keith’s ear to distract him on a turn. Keith refuses to let go of his controller, leaning away from Lance while still trying to steer, his tongue between his lips in concentration and one-foot trying to shove Lance off the couch. Lance is persistent though, sacrificing his position in the game just to take Keith down with him.

“Oh my god,” Shiro laughs. “Have you guys ever thought about playing co-op?”

“What’s that- hey!” Lance splutters when Keith manages to successfully throw him off.

“Co-op,” Shiro says again, this time a little louder over Lance’s squawking and Keith’s muttered curses. “Where you play on the same team.”

“The last time we played on the same team, Keith shot me!”

“Heh,” Keith snickers. He doesn’t look apologetic.

Shiro raises an eyebrow and looks at Keith. “You shot your teammate? When?”

Keith drags his eyes away from the screen to glance at Shiro briefly. Shiro guesses he’s trying to read his expression.

“Y-yes,” Keith hedges slowly, his gaze back on the game. “Laser tag.”

Shiro’s forehead creases. “Deliberately?”

Keith spares a precious second to shoot him a dirty look at that, clearly annoyed that Shiro’s doubting his aim. “Yes, _deliberately.”_

“He shot me, Shiro,” Lance places a hand on his chest dramatically. On screen, the car he drives flies into a wall. “He shot me. His own teammate. _His brother in arms-”_

“You were slowing me down,” Keith tells him. He throws an elbow for good measure then cheers when he wins.

“Oh, yeah, mister I-work-better-on-my-own,” Lance mocks, wringing out air quotes and rolling his eyes.

Keith tries to thump Lance with a cushion again for that but he only gets one whollop in before Shiro intercepts it and pulls it out of his hand. Keith huffs, handing over the controller and Shiro flicks through the menu options to select the appropriate settings.

“Here, try this. You might have more fun working together. You might even learn something.”

“Stop trying to make learning fun, Shiro,” Lance rails at him but he already settling into the new game and there’s a sudden distinct absence of swearing and attempts at sabotage. After a while, they actually look like they might be having fun.

Allura looks at him gratefully. “Thank goodness for that.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure leaving the experiment so soon was a good idea?” Lance asks Keith a short time later. 

Allura and Shiro have migrated back to the kitchen to chat and the ginger tabby has jumped up onto the couch to nestle in beside them. The game isn’t a contact sport now with the cat between them and every so often, Keith will take a hand off the controller to reach down and stroke his fingers through Kitty’s fur.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he answers with a weak shrug. “The less people all up in our business the better.”

Lance ignores the subtle dig, just like Keith knew he would.

“I just mean… Look, what you guys have gone through in a couple of weeks is what most couples go through in a whole year, maybe even longer. And that’s a lot to process. If you’re not in the experiment, then there’s no counselling-“

“We don’t need counselling,” Keith says firmly. He doesn’t take his eyes from the screen, his fingers still flying over the buttons of the controller. “Shiro and I are a match. We’re not like the other couples.”

Lance stares at him. “What?” Keith snaps irritably. He’s not sure if he’s fired up from the games, or if Lance has hit too close to a deep seated, niggling fear. “We’re different.”

“Keith-“

Lance lets a breath escape through his teeth, a sigh heavy enough that Keith refuses to look at him. He’s sure he can feel the judgement rolling off his best friend in waves.

But Lance doesn’t know. Not really, not what goes on when Keith and Shiro are entwined together, just how powerful it is between them. And he _should_ , he has it with Allura, doesn’t he? Of all people, Lance should get it. It was his idea to start with.

So why is he suddenly up Keith’s ass about this?

Keith grits his teeth.

“Keith, even the strongest relationships, even soulmates can run into issues.”

“Not us,” Keith says stubbornly, more just to shut Lance up. He doesn’t like the faint prickle of fear that tries to itch his way down his spine at the fact that Lance might very well be right.

Lance glances down and offers the cat a scratch behind her ears. He doesn’t say anything else but the disapproval in his silence leaves an uncomfortable stain in the space between them.


	53. a little unsteady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you know, this fic is very self-indulgent and this chapter is no different.
> 
> Possible triggers for blood/gore/medical procedures
> 
> Disclaimer: all my medical knowledge comes from google and tv shows (although I did run this by a nurse friend) so please forgive me if you actually do work in the medical field and this is all wrong.
> 
> [moodboard inspo here](https://sheithmafsau.tumblr.com/post/177550270281/ch53-moodboard)

The sun has dipped beyond the horizon, staining the sky in pink and orange when Lance fires up the small barbeque on the apartment’s balcony. It’s cooler out there now, the breeze off the river taking away the sting from the sun and humidity of the day but it’s still too warm to cook inside.

Shiro leans against the railing with one of Lance’s fancy imported beers in his hand and a swell of warmth inside his chest. Despite the heat that still lays heavy in the air, Keith presses against his side, solid and steady and as comfortable as though he is a part of him. And he is, Shiro thinks to himself, veins buzzing with uninhibited sentimentality as he curls his fingers under the lip of his husband’s shirt to reach the bare skin below. He gazes at his husband with stars in his eyes and thinks about how Keith has become the very embodiment of Shiro’s heart- brave and fierce and oh, so beautiful and Shiro takes a moment to simply bask in the contentment curling around him.

“Okay, why are you looking at me like that?” Keith asks him, half amused and faintly self-conscious. He still has moments like this, no matter how much Shiro tells him he loves him, how fiercely lovely he is, his cheeks still heat under Shiro’s gaze. It’s part of his charm, part of what Shiro finds so endearing about him. Keith has no idea of his own power.

The sudden wave of emotion hits Shiro hard. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you are today?” he says huskily. He trails an artificial finger over the line of Keith’s jaw. The upgrades Hunk had given him works wonders, and he can feel the subtle warmth of Keith’s skin under his touch.

Keith blinks once and his gaze flitters away shyly. “No.” It comes out quiet, a little rough. A little bit sceptical too. Then he huffs.  “You’re drunk.”

Shiro chuckles as he pulls his hand away. “Not that drunk.”

“You’re being very sappy,” Keith tells him but his words are flushed with a warm kind of pleasure. Keith might sometimes be standoffish around others but he can’t pull up the same bluster with Shiro. He’s never been able to, Shiro realises.

“You like it when I’m sappy,” Shiro answers with a smile. The hand tucked under Keith’s shirt steals slightly higher. “Admit it.”

Keith can’t fight the twitch of his lips and Shiro smirks to himself on the inside. The smirk melts into a blazing hum when Keith raises his head and the look there is soft and open and it’s his husband laid bare. He can see everything in Keith’s eyes. Even the faint echo of something that looks like worry and a dim little alarm bell chimes at the back of his mind.

“Hey, what’s up?” He can’t stop the frown from forming and Keith’s expression shutters immediately. “Hey,” Shiro says again, and this time the touch against Keith’s jaw is to guide his face gently to look at Shiro in the eye. It reminds him how Keith had stuck close to him after he and Lance had given away the video game, striding over to curl his arms around Shiro’s shoulders and bury his face in the plane of his back and when he’d released him and stepped aside, Keith’s lips had become downturned and his gaze speculative. Shiro wasn’t sure what had transpired between them during the course of the game but he’d just assumed it to be their usual bickering.

Maybe it was something more. “Talk to me.”

Keith sighs quietly, just a small exhale. “Lance thinks we shouldn’t have left the experiment early.”

“Oh?” Shiro can’t quite keep the surprise from his tone but he schools it away quickly. He swipes his thumb over Keith’s skin under his shirt with a gentle touch. “And what do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Keith confesses roughly after a long moment. He leans forward against the balcony railing and Shiro carefully reminds himself to keep quiet until Keith has said all he needs to say. No point jumping to conclusions yet. He’s not particularly fazed by Lance’s opinion but he doesn’t like Keith’s sudden unease. “I mean, I wanted the scientists to stop sticking their noses in, and I wanted to stop with the dumb interviews-“

Keith trails off, the small burst of heat in his words fading as quickly as it’d come. “I like how it feels without the experiment hanging over us.”

Shiro understands instantly what he means. “Me too,” he says softly. Keith leans into him, a nuzzle against his neck that has Shiro curling his arm around Keith even tighter. “I think we’ll be okay though,” he continues. “We’re doing this on our terms now.”

“Yeah,” Keith says softly. His voice has that heated little rasp again and his gaze drops. “Just you and me.”

“That’s right.”

“And I feel…” The tips of Keith’s ears go pink again and he glances away. Shiro resists the urge to tug his face back. “I feel closer to you now. Is that dumb? That’s dumb.”

“No,” Shiro laughs warmly, a small flush of delight stealing through him. He slides his hands into Keith’s hair, pressing a quick kiss to his temple. God he loves when Keith lets himself be open like this. Vulnerable. Shiro knows it’s something only he gets to see. “No because I feel the same way.”

Keith hums softly when he nudges him around until they’re face to face. Shiro can’t help but steal a quick kiss that makes Keith’ cheeks flush, even as his gaze shifts over Shiro’s shoulder to check for an audience before sliding back. Shiro gives him a small, knowing smile.

They spend a few more moments hidden away in the shadows, savouring each other and the sounds of the city in the distance as the night grows deeper before Keith finally steps back with a reluctant sigh.

“I should see if Lance needs any help.”

“I’ll come with you,” Shiro says, quickly stealing another quick kiss that’s light and chaste before they emerge from the shadows.

The other end of the balcony is bathed in a warm yellow glow from a row of bulbs that drape over their heads. Fairy lights twist through the foliage of nearby potted plants and the hiss and sizzle of the meat cooking on the barbeque makes the air smell slightly smoky. Shiro ignores the small, smirking look Lance throws them as they approach.

“We need music,” Lance announces brightly as he stands by the grill.

“We have music,” Keith comments as he helps himself to a beer out of the small tub of ice on the side table. A murmur of old pop songs floats on the airwaves from inside the apartment but Lance wrinkles his face as though offended.

“No, _real_ music. Music we can dance to. Here.” Lance abruptly shoves the tongs at Keith, gesturing to him to take care of the meat cooking while he ducks back inside. A moment later, some upbeat music with a distinctive Latin beat starts up and he snags Allura’s hand and comes sashaying back through the doors. He twirls Allura in time with the music and she laughs as her dress flares out from her thighs at the motion.  “There we go,” he grins.  “Much better.”

“This brings back memories.” Allura’s eyes dance with humour. “Keith, do you remember this song? From the competition?”

Keith gives her a small grin in return before he turns back to the grill. “It’s hard to forget.”

“The competition?” Shiro asks. He follows the question up with a sip of this beer.

He’s an outsider looking in on this memory, another snapshot in his husband’s past that he’s only just learning about. He finds it fascinating, the way Keith and Lance and Allura fit into their friendship. He knows Keith and Lance have years of history under their belt but Allura is only recent to their timeline. Not as recent as he is, but still he wonders how the dynamic might have changed when Lance suddenly had less time for Keith and if that had affected them.

“Lance’s idea,” Keith tells him with a small smile as the music threads through the air and gets their feet tapping along unwittingly. It’s hard not to fall into the rhythm and the up-tempo beat, Shiro’s relaxed and content, shoving aside all the niggles of the last few days to just enjoy this evening with his husband and these new friends.

The niggles will still be there tomorrow.

Keith’s smile is faintly indulgent, as though he’s trying to hold it back but he can’t quite manage it completely. Maybe the fact that riding on the back of the success of their match and their marriage gives him more tolerance for the affection Lance and Allura show but Shiro watches with a growing warmth in his chest as Keith’s smile grows. Lance hand holds Allura’s hand lightly and their feet shift on the smooth floorboards.

“One of my more brilliant ones,” Lance chimes in.

Shiro raises an eyebrow at Keith, waiting for the explanation and he laughs quietly to himself as he explains. “Lance signed himself and Allura up to an amateur dance competition before they started dating,”

“Well, it’s kind of hard to get to know someone when you spend your days knee deep in blood and gore,” Lance says cheerily as they continue to dance. The moves are both snappy and fluid at the same time and even with his limited knowledge of dance styles, Shiro recognizes it as some kind of easy salsa. “I wanted a chance for us to get to know each other away from that and a dance competition seemed like a good chance to do that.”

“Except you couldn’t dance,” Keith says dryly. He turns back to the grill and flips the meat with a simple flick of his wrist.

“Yeah, but Allura could. _Can_ ,” Lance answers with a grin. He locks eyes with Allura. “I knew she’d ace it.”

“I studied ballet as a child, but the dance competition was for salsa-“

“Which meant dance lessons. Weekly dance lessons in a group environment. Totally not like a date,” Lance snags Allura around the waist, her back to his chest and holds her, turning their dance into a warm hug. He turns his lips into her hair and she melts into him sweetly. The love between them impossible to miss. “Just friends hanging out. Even Keith came to a few lessons.”

Shiro shifts his gaze to his husband, only to find his soft expression has morphed into a slight wrinkle of his nose. “Under duress,” he mutters indignantly but there’s no heat to it.

“You seem to have a habit of signing your friends up to things, Lance,” Shiro tells him with amusement. The beer in his hand is starting to get warm but he’s enjoying the conversation too much to care. He figures he’ll swap it out for a fresh one once they head inside and eat.

“Hey, I can’t help it if they don’t know what’s good for them. Sometimes extreme and cunning measures need to be taken. I was right though. We have fun together, don’t we, princess?”

“We do,” she tells him warmly, giving him a quick kiss as he releases her.  She slips back inside and when she’s out of ear shot, Keith gives Lance a pointed smirk.

“Even a stopped clock is right twice a day,” Keith tells him sagely.

“Hey, Shiro,” Lance sets his gaze on Keith, a sly twist to his grin that has Keith’s eyes widening slightly in alarm before they narrow to slits in a wordless threat that Lance completely and utterly ignores. “If you’re lucky, Keith might show you _his_ moves.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve already seen Keith’s moves,” Shiro answers with an exaggerated wink. He laughs at the groan Keith lets out and Lance hoots loudly with laughter.

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith mutters, snapping the tongs in Lance’s face with an embarrassed flush on his cheeks.  Shiro’s pretty sure he’s going to cop some kind of retaliation later for that but he’s sure it will be well worth it.

“Go back to smooching your husband,” Lance tells Keith as he snatches back the tongs and retakes control of the grill. Shiro opens his arms and schools his face into something he hopes is apologetic even though he knows Keith won’t buy it.

“Yes, come back to smooching me.”

Keith crosses to him, lips pursed and cheeks pink but his eyes are warm with humour. He has a prickly veneer his husband, but Shiro relishes the opportunity to smooth down the ruffled edges. How could he not when Keith responds so beautifully to him. He does so now, one touch from Shiro against the small of his back and Keith leans into him again, like he’s weak and soft and he needs Shiro to be his strength.

It’s an illusion, Shiro knows. There’s nothing weak or soft about him, but Shiro treasures the chance to feel needed.

“Wait, I thought you said you didn’t know any dance steps at the wedding,” he says after a moment.

Keith snorts a little, then loops an arm around his neck. He’s so free with his affection tonight, completely uninhibited despite Lance and Allura’s presence, almost as though he’s trying to make a point. Shiro’s mind slips back to Keith’s quiet confession earlier and wonders briefly if it’s connected.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly break out the salsa moves for our wedding dance.”

“Why not?” Lance demands, overhearing. He’s transferring the meat from the barbeque to a plate then carrying it inside. They follow Lance in to be greeted with a beautifully set table lit with flickering candles and a vase of fresh flowers. “I plan to.”

“Lance, you will do no such thing,” Allura’s chides. She placing a large bowl of salad onto the table. “Our wedding dance will be a classy, slow waltz,” Allura adds primly with a toss of her regal head.

“Sure, princess,” Lance winks, catching Shiro’s eye across the table. “It was worth a try though,” he continues in a stage whisper and it earns him a playful elbow in the side from Allura that makes them both laugh.

There’s plenty more laughter and teasing as they eat. Shiro has become attuned to Lance and Keith’s dynamic now and it’s surprisingly entertaining to watch them bat earnest affection dressed up as thinly veiled insults backwards and forwards. Through it all, the conversation flows easily, touching on every subject from their work to recent movies and holiday plans and everything in between. It’s warm and friendly and even as they eat, he and Keith are completely attuned to each other, solicitously sharing items on their plates and sitting side by side with shoulders pressed together and thighs touching.

And it all feels so right that Shiro gets caught up in the comfort of it, the sense of being right where he’s supposed to be, until their chatter slides into a brief mention of Christmas and their plans for the holidays and the oily thought takes up residence in the back of Shiro’s mind that if he agrees to Iverson’s offer, his first Christmas as a married man might not be right here with Keith and their newfound family after all.

The notion tastes like ashes in his mouth.

Keith notices his sudden stillness, placing a hand on his thigh and squeezing gently to get his attention. When Shiro turns to him, Keith raises a dark brow questioningly but Shiro forces the smile back to his lips and cracks a terrible joke that makes Lance slap the table as he cackles.

They talk about Lance and Allura’s upcoming wedding, a slightly more serious subject that causes Allura’s face to fall when she talks about the difficulty they’re facing in trying to keep both families happy. She confesses her father isn’t well enough to travel and explains that the main bulk of Lance’s family are back in Cuba. Each time they think they might be ready to set a date, the issue of just where to hold their wedding holds them back.

“So, do it twice,” Keith says with a shrug. His simple statement surprises all of them.

“What do you mean?” Lance stands to collect the empty plates and Keith rises with him. Shiro’s about to follow but Allura places a cool hand on his forearm, signing that the boys have it under control. He remembers back to the first brunch at the townhouse, how Lance and Keith had taken the time to wash the dishes by hand. It seemed to be a kind of ritual for them so Shiro doesn’t try to get in the way.

“Well, have one wedding here with your father then have another one in Cuba with all of Lance’s family.”

Lance pauses with the plates in his hands and catches Allura’s eye, his gaze speculative. “You know, I hate to admit any time that Keith might be even vaguely right, but… he might be onto something here.”

“Two weddings?” Allura runs a finger over the rim of her wine glass thoughtfully.  “Perhaps that idea is worth considering.”

Lance places the plates in the kitchen sink then comes back to the table. He lays his hands on Allura’s shoulders and kisses her head. “I like the idea of being able to marry the love of my life twice,” he says in a voice full of softness and adoration.

Allura smiles back at him, covering one of his hands with her own. “It would be rather romantic.”

Something about what Lance says takes up root somewhere deep in the recesses of his psyche and Shiro finds himself looking at Keith, a slide of memory shifting behind his eyes of their own wedding. It’s still strange to think he didn’t even know Keith’s name until he was standing in front of him at the altar, stranger again to realise that the vows they’d spoken weren’t ones they’d written themselves. He wonders how different they might be if they’d followed a more traditional route but before he can examine that thought further, the conversation has already moved on.

Lance once again has Keith in his sights and it takes him only a second to tune back in at the sound of his name.

“Keith, we gotta talk to Shiro about that thing,” Lance is saying across the table to Keith.

“What thing?”

“You know,” Lance makes a weird expression with his face that makes Keith narrow his eyes. “The _thing.”_

“Lance, what are you on about?”

Lance sighs dramatically and casts his eyes to the ceiling. Shiro wants to laugh at his dramatic flourish. “The thing. The fundraiser? Remember what we talked about?”

There’s an awkward beat when Keith’s expression immediately shutters. He slides a glance at Shiro that Shiro can’t quite read before he turns back to Lance. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“l know _you_ don’t, but we should let Shiro decide.”

“Lance.” Keith’s tone carries a hint of warning that has Shiro raising his eyebrows.

“Decide what?” Shiro asks then. His tone carries a note of curiosity, not quite following the conversation. Between Lance’s vague comment and the way abrupt and surprising way that tension starts to roll over his husband’s shoulders, Shiro is wondering where it’s going to go.

He turns to his husband. “Keith?”

Keith seems to chew the inside of his cheek, as though not quite sure how he wants to respond. All eyes around the table are on him, but none more so than Shiro’s.  Shiro tries to hedge a guess as to what they might be talking about but he comes up empty.

“Lance has a proposition for you,” Keith finally says with a shrug.

“Keith! Don’t say it like that, you’ll make it weird. I mean, not that you’re not-” Lance waves a hand at Shiro and ducks his head. It’s hard to tell under his dark skin, but his cheeks look faintly pink. “You know- _like that-“_

“What’s weird?” Shiro attempts to cut off what he guesses is supposed to be some kind of awkward compliment from Lance. At least he hopes it was. He’s really not following.

Once again on the outside looking in.

Lance shifts his gaze to Keith but when Keith doesn’t volunteer anything else, he huffs lightly and leans forward on the table. He schools his expression and steeples his fingers and it’s serious enough from Lance that Shiro discovers he’s mildly concerned.

“Why do I get the feeling that I’m not going to like this?” Shiro says nervously but beside him, Keith shakes his head.

“It’s not like that,” Keith starts to say but Lance shushes him with a wave of his hand. Shiro glances at Allura but she’s staring into the contents of her wine glass her expression unreadable and he knows then he’s not going to get any help there.

“Spit it out, Lance.”

“Look, it’s like this,” Lance starts. “Sometimes we help out with fundraising, sometimes for Careflight and sometimes for the children’s foundations, you know, just bringing a bit of joy to the sick kids. We go to the hospital ward too, entertain the kids, read stories and stuff to them. We have one coming up we need extra volunteers for. Rolo is on shift so he’s out, but we-“

“Lance,” Keith interjects with a glare.

“ _I_ ,” Lance continues with a disapproving frown in Keith’s direction, “thought you might be interested in coming to help with the kids. Especially because of your, uh-“ Lance looks pointedly at his bionic arm where he has it resting against the table.

“My what? My hand?” Shiro looks down at it, lifting and flexing it without really thinking.

“But only if you’re comfortable,” Keith says hurriedly. He’s crossed his arms over his chest now but he’s still half glaring at Lance and Shiro gets the sense that perhaps Keith wasn’t on board with this suggestion. He’s not sure what to make of that. He doesn’t believe for a second that Keith might be ashamed of him but he’s faintly confused what to think about the sudden hostility to the idea. He looks at Keith.

“And what do you think?”

The easy humour of earlier in the evening is gone and Keith is stiff, his lips downturned and pink from where he’s been worrying at them as Lance talks. It takes a moment but when he meets Shiro’s eyes, there’s something hooded, something that looks like worry streaked across them.

“I don’t think you should do anything that you’re not comfortable with,” Keith says carefully.

It’s unspoken, but Shiro understands then what Keith is trying to say and there’s a small rush in his chest that Keith knows him so well. The hi-tech prosthetic Shiro sports already draws attention and it’s one thing to sport it and hope that people won’t comment but it’s another thing entirely to flaunt it.

And he’s flaunted it enough lately, he realises and the worry leaks across from Keith to take up residence low in his gut. It hasn’t come back to haunt him yet and he hopes it never will but the concern is always there, lurking around the edges. He stares at his black palm, the surface of the silicone-like skin not quite smooth. It’s been replaced since the incident with the car door just days ago, with something newer and even more hi-tech that Hunk had engineered and Shiro tries to set aside any misgivings to connect with how his hi-tech prosthetic is going to help with what Lance talks about.

In the end, it’s Allura that strips away any confusion.

“Seeing you might give those in a similar situation hope,” Allura says softly.

“This tech,” Shiro shakes his head sorrowfully, flexing his hand without thinking. “It didn’t come easy and it’s hardly readily available.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Allura tells him. “It’s what you’ve had to overcome that’s important.”

Shiro looks up and catches Keith’s eye. There’s an uncomfortable emotion he can’t name swirling in his chest. “Do you really think I could help?”

Keith takes a breath to answer but he hesitates on the inhale for a second before he releases it in a rush.

“Actually, yeah,” he responds honestly and the expression on his face is pinched enough that Shiro suspects it pained him to say so. “I do.”

“Okay,” Shiro nods after a long moment.  “I’ll do it. If you think I can help, I’ll do it.”

There’s a flurry of relieved sighs, as though they’d all been holding their breath waiting for his answer. Keith searches out his hand under the table, giving him a small private smile.

“See,” Lance grins triumphantly as he sits back in his seat. “I told you Shiro would be cool with it.”

“I know he’s cool with it,” Keith mutters in irritation and Shiro feels the pressure of his grip tightening on his hand. There’s still concern in his gaze and his voice is low. “No pressure though. If you’re not up for-“

“I want to,” Shiro assures Keith quickly and it surprises him to realise he really does.

 

* * *

 

They’ve just finished off desert and Shiro’s wondering how soon they can extract themselves without being rude, thinking about how it might finally be time to broach the subject of Iverson’s offer with his husband when Keith’s phone starts to trill on the kitchen counter.

Keith excuses himself from the table quickly and retreats to the kitchen to take the call. Shiro watches him with half an eye as he talks, recognizing the tension that starts to set in over his shoulders and his brows furrowing together and feeling his stomach drop with the realisation something is happening.  

His suspicion is confirmed when a few moments later, Keith snaps into the phone angrily before hanging up and stalking back to the table.

“Allura, I hate to do this but I need your help.”

“Of course,” she says without hesitation, removing the white napkin from her lap and placing it on the table as she stands up. “Is it Thace?”

“No.” Keith looks away. There’s no mistaking the terse set to his jaw now. It makes Shiro frown. “It’s Ezor.”

Shiro has to pause for a half second, scanning through his memories to put a face to the name until he realises Keith is talking about one of his half-sisters. The one Lance didn’t seem to think much of, Shiro realises when he remembers their interaction at the wedding reception. God, was that only a few weeks ago? It feels like years.

“Ezor,” Lance scoffs dismissively with a wave of his hand.  “Let her fend for herself.”

Allura pauses at the table for a beat, her eyes on Keith. There seems to be a flurry of wordless communication that rushes between them before she pushes her chair away. She’s taken only a handful of steps towards stairs that lead up to their bedroom when Lance grows alarmed. He sits up abruptly.

“Allura, where are you going?”

“Keith needs our help. I’m just going change and get my kit.”

“Oh, no. Nuh uh. No way.”

“Lance,” Keith says quietly.  “She’s been hurt.”

Lance stands up, the chair scrapes along the floorboards as he shoves it back roughly. The sudden flare in his demeanour catches Shiro by surprise and he glances quickly at Keith, only to find his husband’s face carefully blank. Lance leans forward across the table, splaying his hands across the hard wood surface and his voice grows higher in pitch with his agitation. “So? Tell her to dial triple zero. You know, like a normal person!”

Keith doesn’t answer, the set of his jaw tight. He glances back towards the stairs where Allura has disappeared to.

“What’s going on?” Shiro asks. He doesn’t like the tension radiating from Keith and he likes the abrupt way Keith is suddenly avoiding his eye even less. “Keith?”

“It’s Ezor,” Keith mutters unhelpfully. “She needs help.”

“You’re not seriously going to go to her, are you?” Lance demands and Keith’s eyes flash angrily in response.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because she’s batshit crazy and bad news and you know whatever shit she’s mixed up in she’s just going to try to drag you down with her.”

“I have to.”

“Keith! You can’t go running to her every time she calls.”

“I can’t ignore her, Lance. She says she needs help.”

“I don’t get it. Even in high school, you never gave a shit about what anyone else thought, you always did your own thing. The lone wolf. But as soon as Ezor calls, you drop everything-“

“She’s my family-“

“No,” Lance interrupts harshly. The stare down between them has Shiro pushing to his feet slowly. He can’t take sides here, he doesn’t know what’s going on. He’s not privy to the history laced in this.

Then Lance pulls him in. “Does Shiro know?”

Even from where he stands, still by the table, Shiro can see Keith’s eyes glitter and his jaw clenches.

“Don’t bring Shiro into this.”

Lance shakes his head then, an incredulous huff escaping. “He doesn’t, does he?”

“No,” Keith says firmly. There’s look in his eye that looks suspiciously like a warning. Shiro starts to wonder if he needs to separate them, although he suspects if he tries to step in, Keith won’t thank him for it.

“Know what?” he says quietly in the vibrating silence. It’s the second time that night he feels like he’s on the outside, that he’s not privy to the motions of Keith’s life. It’s to be expected, Keith and Lance have known each other for years instead of mere weeks, but something about constantly trying to play catch up is starting to grate on him.  He feels frustrated and all he really wants is Keith to turn to him and talk to him and tell him what the fuck is going on.

Lance drops his hands and steps back. Shiro can see the distress in Lance’s eyes, a very real unease there that tells him he’s not doing this to be an asshole. Lance is genuinely upset. Shiro’s gaze flicks to Keith but he won’t meet his eye.

“So he hasn’t told you about Ezor?” Lance says, quieter this time.

“Told me what?”

“Stole a car, didn’t they?” Lance bites it out to Shiro but his eyes are locked on Keith, all accusatory fire something that looks a little like… hurt? “Keith and Ezor. Took it for a joy ride, smashed it and Ezor left him in the wreckage to take the rap for it. _Left him-”_

“I was fifteen,” Keith cuts in quietly. His voice is so low Shiro almost has to strain to hear him. “We were just a couple of dumb kids and she’s my si-“

“I don’t care if you hatched from the same alien egg,” Lance yells, throwing his arms up. Keith’s eyes flash angrily in response.

“What is with you and hatching from eggs?” he mutters but it dies when Lance glares at him.

“You don’t do that to family,” Lance grits out in frustration and Shiro gets the sense this is a familiar argument they’ve had a hundred times before. “You don’t do that to family, you don’t do that to _anyone.”_

“She _is_ my fam-“

“ _I’m_ your family,” Lance explodes but it’s not from anger. Shiro can see it in his eyes. It’s fuelled by hurt that rips into his voice harshly enough it makes even Keith blink. “I am, and Allura and Shiro. Shiro, remember? Your _husband._ We’re your family-“ Lance stops, bites his tongue and visibly struggles to gain control of himself. “You don’t owe her shit,” he finally finishes with a calm that belies the clench of his fists at his sides.

Shiro watches his husband’s face keenly but the set line of his jaw doesn’t budge. Keith doesn’t budge. Lance gives him one more sorrowful look and shakes his head.

Keith’s gaze flickers to Shiro, unreadable. He lowers his head, and Shiro recognizes the motion, the way he’s drawing what little defences he has around himself.

“I’m not going to just ignore her,” Keith says stubbornly. 

“This is ridiculous,” Lance mutters, more to himself than anything. He makes a final, incredulous little sound at the back of his throat and turns away, stalking towards the stairs without looking back.

It’s not until he’s out of earshot that Keith’s shoulders slump faintly. He draws a hand up, rubbing it across his forehead. It’s a little disconcerting to see this side of Keith. He’s immovable like a rock. But he looks tired too. Whatever is going on, it’s dug right down deep into the core of him and Shiro feels helpless and lost in its wake.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Keith finally says in a low voice.

“He cares about you,” Shiro says simply. “And he’s right. We’re your family. _I’m_ your family.”

“Shiro, I still need to-“

“I know. How can I help? What do you need?”

Keith freezes, as though Shiro's question has just ripped the rug out from under him and the startled expression on his face leaves something like bile on Shiro's tongue. Did Keith really think he wouldn't want to help? That he wouldn't be there for him when he needed it.

Keith doesn't get a chance to answer before they're interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Allura is coming back down, changed out of her pretty dress into dark jeans and a black shirt and hehind her, Lance follows, holding a solid red case in his hands. Shiro’s seen a case like that before, it looks like a bigger version of the kit Keith has.

Keith stares at Lance and what he holds in his hands. “Wait, you’re going to help too?”

“Of course, I am,” Lance says it quietly and firmly but it vibrates with reproach. “You know I’ll always have your back. Even when you’re being a complete fucking _moron-“_

“Okay,” Shiro cuts him off quickly, noting the flash of ire starting to spark in Keith’s eye again and trying to head off another argument. They’re wasting time. “I’ll drive. We should get going.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro steers as Keith feeds the location into the navigation system in the car and the drive takes them to the outskirts of the city where it lays against the base of the mountains. It’s late and the roads are quiet but the silence in the car makes the minutes feel like hours. 

Shiro lays a hand on Keith’s knee and gives him a quick squeeze before withdrawing it. He’s mindful of Allura and Lance in the crammed backseat, going over the contents in the kit illuminated by the light of Lance’s phone. Allura tries to pry more information about what they might be walking into out of Keith but he shrugs and stares straight ahead.

“I don’t know,” he says. “She’s hurt and needs help. That’s all I know.”

“Probably mouthing off again,” Lance mutters.  “Only a matter of time before someone sticks her in her place.”

“Lance,” Allura says softly and the quiet reprimand makes him shift his gaze out the car window, but not before catching Shiro’s eye in the rear-view mirror briefly.

There are nuances at play here that Shiro can’t seem to wade through, a history he’s not privy to and that Keith seems reluctant to share. The Keith that sits in the passenger seat is as closed off as Shiro has ever seen him, stiff with worry and perhaps something else he can’t understand.

Even that night at Keith’s uncles house, he wasn’t closed off like this.

Shiro continues to follow the nav points, a flicker of concern stealing over him when it directs them off the main road and onto a tree lined gravel path that was lit by nothing but the moonlight and the car’s headlights. It’s not the sort of road suited to a low road car and he winces internally at the rough travel and winces again when something that looks like a discarded stick flips under the wheel and bangs into the undercarriage.

“Where the hell are we?” Lance asks from behind him. He’s gripping the back of Keith’s seat and peering through the windscreen. “It’s like we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Zethrid said they were laying low for a while,” Keith says. “Guess this is their safe house.”

“Safe house,” Lance snorts and leans back. “What are they? Spies or informants or something?”

Keith doesn’t answer and Lance doesn’t push. The road smooths out slightly before turning into more gravel. The tree branches look spindly and ominous as they reach out overhead.

Finally, a dull yellow glow in the distance becomes visible and when they pull up at a small weatherboard home, a large figure stands on the front step, their face hidden from darkness.

It’s not until they get out of the car that the figure steps into the porch light and Shiro recognizes her as Keith’s other half-sister, the big one that all but bared her teeth at him at their wedding reception.

Her eyes flicker over them as she steps her wide bulk aside and allows them to take the small set of stairs that lead into the house and just inside the doorway, Shiro hears Keith speak.

“Where is she?”

“In here,” comes another voice that Shiro guesses belongs to the third sister, the one that resembled Keith the most.  He hangs back, allowing Allura and Lance to go in first, ignoring the big woman’s mocking curl of her lip as she falls into step behind him. She makes his skin crawl and he can feel her eyes on him uncomfortably.

“Allura,” Keith calls out, the urgency in his voice unmistakable.

The house is old and the floorboards creak as Allura rushes to his side. Lance follows behind quickly, carrying the kit in his hands. Ezor is curled on the couch, pale and struggling to breathe and Shiro can only hang back and watch helplessly as Allura quickly assesses the other woman briskly before she’s directing Lance and Keith to move her to the dining room table.

Zethrid hovers nearby, snarling as Keith shoves the various books and paperwork littering the table to the floor hurriedly. 

“What are you doing?”

“She’s got blood in her left lung and pleural space,” Allura says. Her voice is hard and professional as she cuts the material of Ezor’s shirt away. Keith works silently at her side, his lips in a terse line and it takes Shiro a second to realise he’s hooking her up to an IV. “We need to drain this, now. Prep the chest tube.”

Ezor’s pale skin across her ribs is mottled with sickly green and yellow bruising and a blackened smear under the skin that makes Shiro’s stomach turn unhappily. He watches silent and tense as Lance grips Ezor’s hand tightly in his own and leans over her as Allura and Keith work on her.  “Hey, fuckface,” he says with forced cheerfulness. “You look like shit. Been mouthing off again?”

Ezor hisses between her teeth, skin tinted a sickly grey and breath rasping horribly. “Asshole.”

“Yeah,” Lance pats her hand before leaning back but he doesn’t let go. Despite her weakened state, she grips him like a vice. “You’re going to be fine. We’ll fix you right up.”

“Her blood pressure is low,” Keith says. He’s glancing at the readout in their kit and holding a bag of clear solution up. Allura’s face twists.

“Give her 100 mics of fentanyl. She’s going to feel this.”

Lance follows through on Allura’s instructions and less than a beat later, Allura holds a scalpel in her hand. The light glints off the blade before it dips into the soft flesh, blood seeping and staining her gloves. Shiro has to look away as Allura performs the procedure, surprised to find his hands shaking slightly. The coppery smell of blood and something like antiseptic in the air makes him faintly dizzy, reminding him unhappily of his long months in the hospital and it’s a mental effort to shut out the invasive memory and stay in the moment.

The three of them work quickly around Ezor. Allura’s instructions are too quiet for Shiro to hear but he sees the way Lance and Keith respond to follow them. It feels like an eternity has passed when Allura finally steps back with a rough sigh and peels off the blood-stained gloves.  She wipes her hand across her brow.

“We should see a relief of symptoms now,” Allura tells them. She faces Zethrid and the oldest sister. What was her name again? Acxa? “But you need to take her to the hospital. She’s at risk of shock and infection.”

“No,” Zethrid’s voice rings out harshly in the still room. There only sound is Ezor’s laboured breathing and the faint beep of the medkit reporting back her vitals. The screen shows an array of shifting numbers and diagnostics, still all within the red zone.

“I beg your pardon. No is _not_ an option.” Allura snaps then, her patience clearly at and end and furious at being questioned. Zethrid looms large, but Allura stands just as tall.

“We can’t take her to a hospital. We would have done that already if we could. She stays here.”

“Listen to me,” Allura’s voice is a whiplash, cold and vicious enough that even Zethrid steps back. “Blood has obliterated her lung, she has diminished lung capacity and it’s preventing her from oxygenating properly. She’s at risk of hypovolemic shock. There is only so much I can do in a shack in the middle of nowhere. You want her to recover, she needs a hospital.”

“I’ll call Kolivan,” Keith says, his tone just shy of begging. He bypasses Zethrid and appeals directly to Acxa. Shiro understands why he does. Zethrid is too much bluster and emotion. Axca stands aside, silent with eyes that watch like a hawk, quietly assessing. “He’ll send someone to stay with her, protect her. She’ll be safe.”

“Acxa,” Zethrid warns but Acxa silences her with a look.

“Alright.”

“You can’t be serious,” Zethrid rumbles but Keith ignores her, pulling out his phone. He takes a few steps away and speaks into the mouth piece quietly. Shiro tries to strain to hear but Ezor’s rasping is getting loud and the gurgle makes his stomach turn. Jesus, how did they do this? How were they so calm about it?

“We’re going to have to be careful about shock,” Lance murmurs, staring intently at the readouts scanning along the medkit’s interface. Ezor’s lashes flutter against her cheeks and Lance still grips one of her hands in his. The beeps are quiet but the screen suddenly flashes red and he looks up at Allura in alarm.

“Keith,” she snaps. “Call it in. Use our code. We’ll deal with the consequences later.”

Keith is already making the call and the twelve minutes it takes for the helicopter to land feels like it drags on for days. The tension alone makes Shiro’s shoulder hurt and his jaw ache. He can’t imagine Keith must be feeling.

Hours later, Shiro waits in the hallway of the hospital, a few meters away from where Kolivan and Keith talk quietly outside of Ezor’s room. Another man stands nearby, a police officer that Shiro doesn’t recognize but that had embraced Kolivan warmly and laid a comforting hand on Keith’s shoulder.

It’s just past midnight and he decides he doesn’t care for the coffee in the hospital vending machines at all.

Keith finishes his conversation with his uncle and the police officer and turns wearily to walk back to Shiro. There are dark smears on his jeans, long tracks where he’d wiped his sisters’ blood along his thighs.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith won’t meet his eye and the unease that sits against Shiro’s ribs feels sharp. “She’ll be okay now if she doesn’t do anything stupid. I just-” Keith swears low and his eyes scrunch tightly together as he exhales.  Shiro doesn’t stop to think about it, he just pulls his husband against his chest, ignoring the stiffness of his shoulders and the way Keith presses his face into the side of his neck.

When they go home, Keith is quiet and disappears upstairs without a word.

Shiro lets him go.

 

* * *

 

Keith hunches over the bathroom sink in their ensuite, scrubbing at the space under his nails with a kind of ruthless efficiency. He had been wearing gloves but somehow they had torn and he’d ended up with a smear of Ezor’s blood across his fingertips.

He keeps scrubbing even when he hears the bedroom door open and the lamp flicks on, even when he hears the faint thump of Shiro pulling off his boots and dropping them to the ground, even when Shiro’s form looms in the doorway.

Keith doesn’t look up.

“Keith,” Shiro says quietly after a long moment and Keith finds himself sifting through the syllables of his name to find the meaning behind Shiro’s tone.

“Yeah,” he finally answers. He’s tired, he’s raw and he feels like he’s standing on a razor’s edge. He doesn’t want to look up. He doesn’t want to see the changed way he’s sure Shiro must be looking at him.

Fuck. That thought hurts almost as much as the guilt that curls around his throat and burrows into his gut. He knew his sisters were involved in something shady, he _knew_ there was something going on, but he’d been too deeply entrenched in his loved-up bubble with Shiro that he’d dragged his feet to follow through and now Ezor was lying in a hospital bed on the other side of town.

He wanted so badly to keep that part of his life, of his past as far away from Shiro as he could. Shiro, who was a shining star in his life, something precious and special, and his half-sisters had forced his hand and spilled it all across the floor in a heap.

Keith drops the brush into the sink and rinses his hands, ignoring the twist in his chest as water runs over the black shine of his wedding ring. He stubbornly avoids Shiro’s gaze in the mirror, unsure of what he’ll see there but not expecting anything good.

“We should talk,” Shiro says softly. Keith wants to melt into the sound of his voice but the vibration of fear under his skin won’t let him.

“It’s late.” He grips the edge of the sink, curling his fingers around the cool, hard porcelain.

“I know.”

“I’m tired,” he tries again but the voice in his head claws at him.

Shiro steps closer, so close Keith can feel the heat radiating off him. The heat he wants to sink into but doesn’t dare reach for. “I know that too.”

The silence stretches between them, nothing but the faint tink of a drop of water falling from the tap to break it. Keith stares at the marbling on the countertop, his eyes tracing the patterns that look like bursts of shattering stars. It makes him think of the painting resting against the wall in their bedroom. Shiro’s bedroom.

How long until he’s not welcome in there anymore, he wonders. Best to prepare for the worst, best to steel himself, harden his heart.

Except he can’t. Not against Shiro. But he doesn’t want to be the thing that weighs him down, the thing that dulls Shiro’s shine. Not with the dark smears across his past that try to steal their way into his future too.

“I don’t have a record, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Keith finally says and his arms release from their clawed purchase of the sink to hug them over himself protectively. As though he might be able to stop his heart from falling out of his chest and he almost misses it, the slight stiffening of Shiro’s back before the air leaks out of Shiro’s lungs in a controlled exhale that sends ice skittering down Keith’s spine.

 _Shiro, I love you_ , he thinks, and he squeezes his eyes shut to hold back the pricks of silver that floods them and he knows he doesn’t have to elaborate. He knows the mental image of him, fifteen and so fucking stupid behind the wheel of a stolen car sits between them.

“It wasn’t,” Shiro responds softly. The air shifts as he steps closer. The heat intensifies and for a heartbeat, Keith is confused. Shiro isn’t looking at him with reproach, he’s not backing up with wariness. He comes closer instead. “But it wouldn’t matter if you did.”

The sound that falls out of him is rough, a sob and a huff and a laugh all in one. It carries enough of a tone of disbelief that Shiro seems to feel the need to reach for him. And he does, making Keith almost flinch when Shiro lays a cool hand against the nape of his neck, stealing under the tie of his hair and gripping with a gentle pressure.

But Keith is stubborn and he still won’t look up.

“Baby,” Shiro whispers and Keith’s stomach churns with the aching way the endearment settles inside him and he feels unworthy of it.

There’s a slight pressure on his neck, a gentle guide that forces their heads together. He catches the flicker of their reflection in the mirror, Shiro bent over him, his lips against Keith’s temple, eyes closed as though he’s savouring it as much as Keith is. Keith soaks it in, catalogues every motion and breath in case it’s the last time he has it. Because this is what he’s been waiting for isn’t it? For the other shoe to drop. For the muck of the skeletons rattling around in his closet and his past to wipe their ugly fingers over everything that’s good in his life because even if it’s good and pure and handed to him on a silver platter, he still doesn’t deserve to keep it.

“It was her that kept calling during our honeymoon, wasn’t it? That night we danced on the beach? She wanted something from you.” Shiro says it quietly, as though he’s sifting through their history and putting the pieces together.

Keith forces himself to nod.

“She… she showed up at work too. After we got back. She said she was trying to warn me about something. But she… she had printed out old news articles… about…” Keith struggles to get the words out. “About your crash and the garrison. How they tried to blame you.”

Shiro’s keeps his expression carefully neutral and something about it makes Keith’s heart thunder faster in his chest. “I didn’t read them. I was angry at her.

“That’s something else we’ll have to talk about,” Shiro murmurs. He uses his bionic hand to tuck a strand of Keith’s hair behind his ear and the motion is so tender it makes Keith’s eyes sting.

“Does… does it change things?”

“Keith,” Shiro says softly and for a brief instant, Keith is dizzy with the force of it, the way Shiro says his name like a prayer. He says it like that when he has Keith naked under him too, and it’s beautiful and precious and Keith clings to it. “The only thing it could change is to make me love you more.”

It feels like a fever dream. There’s a gentle tug on his body that has him turning around and sinking into Shiro’s chest as Shiro closes his arms around him and he’s enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and safety like he never has been before. Shiro’s shirt is soft cotton and warm under his cheek, and he’s tired. He’s so tired and drained and wracked with guilt and relief and a mess of emotion he can’t quite process. “I wanted to keep all that away from us. I didn’t want my sister’s shit ruining what we have. You didn’t sign up for that.”

Shiro steals his hands under Keith’s thighs and lifts him, pinning Keith against his chest with the hard band of his metallic arm. Keith doesn’t hesitate to curl his legs around Shiro’s waist, burying his face against the warm skin of Shiro’s neck and Shiro carries him into the bedroom and carefully sets them down on the bed. Keith stays perched in his lap, his face buried into the warm side of his neck.

“Don’t you remember what you said to me on our honeymoon?” Shiro whispers, dragging his wide palms up and down Keith’s back. Keith’s walls have long been shattered and the strain and emotion of the day makes him weak. He’s supposed to be able to keep work and home separate. He’s supposed to be able to compartmentalize, to keep the two halves of his experiences separate but somehow tonight they all melded together and it was messy and confusing but Shiro holds him and offers him a strength he greedily soaks up. “The first time my tech went haywire,” Shiro is saying. “When I said to you that you didn’t sign up for that, for the shit that went with it?”

Keith has to cast his mind back. It’s harder than he expects through the haze of his raw emotions but he remembers. He remembers Shiro trying to pull away from him, trying to push a distance between them and the way Keith refused to let him.

“Yes,” he whispers.

“Do you remember what you said to me?”

 _I signed up for you, Shiro_. You _. I don’t give a shit about anything else._

“It goes both ways,” Shiro says softly and once again his hands are on Keith’s hair, smoothing it away from his forehead and leaving him exposed. Keith swallows back a small whimper of protest. He’s too wrung out to fight it and he doesn’t want to. Not now. Not Shiro. “If you think that drama with your half-sisters is going to push me away-“ Shiro gives him a small, soft smile and presses their foreheads together briefly. “Well, you’re going to have to try harder than that to get rid of me.”

“Shiro,” Keith breathes and then Shiro is pulling him down onto the bed and curling around him. Trapped between his weight and the mattress, Keith should feel stifled, but he feels anchored and safe instead.

“Get some sleep,” Shiro murmurs against his hair. Keith feels his weight shift and the room plunges into darkness around them.  “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think the song they danced to was La Tempertura by Maluma


	54. born to be yours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent my Friday & Saturday nights writing this fic and drinking a strawberry and lime ciders.  
> no regrets!
> 
> [ Moodboard here if it's your thing ](https://sheithmafsau.tumblr.com/post/177620942161/ch54-moodboard)

Despite the late night, Shiro’s body clock wakes him before his alarm has a chance to fire. He rolls over, pushing away the sheets and reaching out for Keith only to find his husband isn’t there. When he pads downstairs, the living room is empty, so is the kitchen but the sliding doors to the patio are open and the curtains billow on the early morning breeze.

He can hear Keith’s quiet murmur as he talks on the phone and Shiro announces himself by stepping out into the sunshine and laying his hands over his husband’s shoulders. He plants a soft kiss to the top of Keith’s head before releasing him and sliding into one of the patio chairs. The furrow over Keith’s brow fades briefly when he flashes Shiro a small smile but it comes back as he continues his conversation.

“Okay, yeah. Thanks,” he says as he hangs up. Shiro tilts his head.

“Work?”

“Kolivan,” Keith supplies. He lays his phone onto the table and sighs. He still looks tired but he doesn’t carry the haunted tension that lay across his shoulders like he had the night before when they’d returned home from the hospital and Shiro is glad for that.  He reaches out and snags Keith’s fingers in his own.

“How is she?”

“She’ll be fine,” Keith shrugs. “But she’s still not talking.”

“Stubborn, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Shiro tugs lightly on Keith’s fingers. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Keith gives him a droll look but his lips twitch slightly.  “Did you sleep okay?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Shiro says. He tightens his grip and Keith ends up climbing to his feet and before Shiro can blink, he has a lap full of Keith. He’s grateful for it. Last night he’d seen Keith’s walls climbing and he’d been wary that they would still be there in the morning. 

“Yeah,” Keith says slowly. “Thanks to you.”

Shiro smiles and reaches up to smooth a lock of hair from Keith’s cheek. He doesn’t have it tied back today and it sits heavy at the back of his neck. Shiro slips his hands through the strands. So much about this man he loves, so much he treasures. He just wishes he could make Keith see it.

He tugs Keith in for a kiss, warm and lingering and lazy in the sunny morning. They still have hours yet before they need to go to work and Shiro knows he still has a workout he needs to cram in, but he takes a few moments to savour the touch of Keith’s lips on his. He tastes like coffee and mint and that hint alone that tells Shiro that Keith’s been awake for a while.

Keith draws back, his fingers tracing over the light stubble on Shiro’s jaw. He smiles but it looks tired, faintly distracted. Shiro’s fairly sure his mind is elsewhere, probably still on his sister.

Keith drops his hands and slides back to his feet, taking the seat beside Shiro. Shiro wishes he’d stayed in his lap.

“So, any idea what your sister is caught up in if she’s not talking?” Shiro asks. He suspects Keith might know more than he’s letting on. Shiro wants to help, but he’s not sure how he can.

“No, but-“ Keith pauses, then turns to him with a speculative look. “Shiro, how did you end up piloting at the Garrison open day? That wasn’t planned was it?”

Shiro is surprised by the change in subject but he doesn’t fight it. “No,” he says, tilting his head and wondering where Keith’s train of thought is trying to take him. “It was a last minute thing. I stepped in because the original pilots weren’t available.”

“Weren’t available,” Keith echoes dimly. He’s frowning now, staring at the wood grain of the table and tapping his fingers against it. “Why not?”

“Stomach flu I think Commander Iverson said,” Shiro shrugs dismissively. It happens. Sometimes pilots get sick and fortunately for Iverson, Shiro had been waiting in the wings. It couldn’t have worked out any better than it had and Shiro wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He glances around the courtyard, pleased when he spies Black stretched out on the pavers, his dark coat shiny in the patch of sunlight he’s claimed for himself. Keith must have fed him already if he’s not walking all over the table to get Shiro’s attention and he feels warm at the knowledge that Keith cares for Black so well.

He might even spoil him a little, judging by Black’s slightly expanding girth.

When he looks up, Keith is still frowning.  “Why?”

Keith opens his mouth to answer before his expression shifts and he turns his frown into a rueful smile instead. “Just curious. Hey, do you have to work out this morning?”

“Yeah,” Shiro nods. “Though I might limit it to a run today.”

“Want some company?”

Shiro raises an eyebrow but he’s warm with pleasure of the thought of Keith joining him. “I thought running wasn’t your thing?”

“I run sometimes,” Keith tells him, his tone mildly affronted. He even gives a small toss of his head and Shiro recognizes the spark of challenge he’s just ignited in his husband. He can work with that. He can _definitely_ work with that.

Keith joins him and they run on a path that curls around the river, in the shadows of sparkling skyscrapers. The day is new and fresh and Shiro is surprised to admit how well Keith keeps up with him. He’s got those long legs of his pounding the pavement, easily keeping pace with Shiro, although they’re both lost in their own thoughts as they fall into a rhythm. Halfway through, Keith opts to forgo the pause Shiro takes in a treelined park just off the path for his pushups and sit-ups, preferring instead of offer encouragement in the form of holding Shiro’s feet and dishing out quick, sweaty kisses after each rep, making Shiro laugh too hard he informs Keith’s he’s more of a hindrance than a help. Keith resolves to keep his hands to himself for the rest of Shiro’s reps and Shiro is almost disappointed.

When they start to head back, Keith flashes Shiro a wolfish grin a utters a breathless, _“Race you!”_ before he streaks into the distance and Shiro has to kick into high gear to catch up.  The breath starts to come harder in his lungs and he’s almost over taking Keith, until he catches sight of a smirk and suddenly Keith is vaulting over a footbridge and landing lightly on the path below.

Because of course. Of course, Keith wouldn’t play by the rules. If they had them.

Shiro grabs the railing and peers over the edge. “Hey!” but he can’t help the laugh when Keith grins and raises two fingers in a mocking salute and races off.

Keith has already ordered from a nearby café by the time Shiro finds him and he’s walking out to meet him with two drinks and a paper bag in his hand. His dark hair is coming loose from the higher pony tail he sports, once again hanging over his face and his skin shines with a thin sheen of sweat. His shirt doesn’t have sleeves and it’s hard not to stare at the flex and swell of his leanly muscled biceps as he carries their prize over.

“Hey, old-timer, you made it,” Keith grins at him, and he’s too alluring for Shiro to spend any heat on his words.

“Ha, very funny. What the hell was that move anyway?”

“Just mixing it up.”

“I’ll say.”

Keith leads him to a shaded spot by the river, the heat of the day already ramping up. Shiro would probably prefer a cool drink rather than a hot coffee but he’s long since become used to his husband’s preferences. He takes the coffee from Keith’s hand but eyes the crisp white packet he holds out warily.

“I’m not sure those really fit into my diet plan,” he says when Keith pulls out a buttery croissant.

Keith looks at the pastry in his hand and holds it over his mouth, turning the curve downwards and making his eyes sad. “Sucks to be you,” he says then lowers it with a smirk.  It makes Shiro laugh and it’s one Keith echoes. Keith leans over to knock against Shiro’s shoulder with his own.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Shiro says. His hands twitch to cup Keith’s face and steal a kiss but they’re both kind of sweaty so he doesn’t.  “Next time stick to the path though.”

Keith rolls his eyes at that then takes a bite of his pastry. “We should make this a regular thing.”

A regular thing. Something that’s theirs. The date nights they’d promised each other on their honeymoon still hadn’t quite come about but this hour or so before the day starts might be something else they can do together. Shiro likes the thought of that. He likes the thought of them melding their routines together where they could.

He’ll just have to keep Keith away from the coffees and the croissants.

“I’d like that,” he says softly and Keith glances at him with a small smile.

“You look good in that get up, by the way.”

Shiro looks down at the compression gear he wears. It’s like a black bodysuit but it’s comfortable and cool despite the heat. It also hides his artificial arm under the black fabric from any unwanted attention.

“You look pretty good yourself,” Shiro tells him, then he reaches over to take one of Keith’s ear pieces gently and hold it up to his own ear. “What are you listening to that makes you run so fast?”

Keith smiles and pulls out his phone, scrolling through his playlist. It’s a good mix, not at all what Shiro would have expected for Keith and the addition of even a few songs in Spanish which doesn’t surprise him after their dinner with Lance and Allura the night before and that leads him back to thinking about Keith’s sisters but it also leads him to the shadow that looms over them. He keeps trying to find the ideal moment to broach it but so far, nothing has seemed right. He knows he can’t keep carrying the knowledge of the garrison’s offer around without talking to Keith about it first. He’s put it off too long already and he needs it off his chest.

He needs to lay his cards on the table, he needs to be honest with Keith because they were married and whatever his decision, it would affect the both of them, and whatever it was they are building together.

He feels faintly unwell when his mind trudges back there and he finds himself staring at the lines of Keith’s profile, the shape of his jaw and the dark lashes against his eyes. Keith watches the river and the way the sunlight sparkles off the surface of the water, but Shiro watches Keith, his heart gripped like a vice at the thought of having to leave him, of having to spend even a day away from him.

Why doesn’t the idea of going back to the garrison inspire him anymore? When did he stop looking so intently towards the heavens for something unachievable? When did this contentment fall into his lap instead?

“Shiro?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry, what did you say?”

“I said we should get going if we want to get to work on time today.” Keith knocks into him gently, sliding a hand around his waist as they get to their feet. “Come on, old timer.”

“Old timer?” Shiro snorts. That’s the second time that morning Keith has called him that. “I’m only seven,” he protests. “And a quarter”

“Are you going to milk that until we’re old and grey?”

“No. Only until I’m-” Shiro dramatically counts on his fingers. “Fifteen or so.”

Keith rolls his eyes.

By the time they get back to the townhouse, they’re breathless but not from the run. Breathless, because as soon as the door shut behind them, Keith had advanced on him with a glint in his eye that Shiro wasn’t about to fight and then they were on each other with greedy hands and heady kisses. The endorphins have kicked in with full force and Keith presses against him with heat and fire.  His hands scramble at the hem of his shirt, peeling the tight black material from his frame and leaving his chest bare. Shiro grabs a fistful of Keith’s shirt too, hauling it off over his head too quickly to be gentle.

Keith curls his arms around him, burying his face against the damp planes of Shiro’s chest and his hot breath and the flick of his tongue against his sweaty skin makes Shiro gasp weakly. He gasps again when Keith’s mouth travels further and then Keith is all but nuzzling into the cleft of his arm before kissing along his chest again.

“God, I love everything about you,” Keith mutters. He kisses his way over Shiro’s collarbones and latches onto the sweaty skin against his neck. “You’re making me crazy.”

“Keith,” Shiro struggles to concentrate under Keith’s onslaught. His mouth and fingers are hungry against his skin. Shiro grips Keith’s hips to steady himself, only to find Keith tugging him down onto the floor, pinning him on his back against the rug in their living room, in front of the couch and the tv. He’s helpless to protest too hard and when his blood heats he decides he doesn’t want to.

Keith unlatches his mouth from his throat long enough to speak. His voice is rough. “Remember when we had to do that weird sniff test with the sweaty gym shirts at the start of the experiment? When we had to go through the selection process stuff? It was so fucking weird. I got stuck in that room for hours-“

“What?” Shiro can’t stop the laugh that falls out of his chest when he remembers back. “What are you talking about? It barely took any time at all.”

Keith lifts his head. His hair flops over one eye and Shiro pushes it away with the touch of his metal fingers. “No,” Keith says slowly. His eyes have narrowed to slits. “It took almost all day.”

“Not for me,” Shiro tells him. “It only took me about twenty minutes.”

Keith sits back, eyes wide. “I spent _hours_ trying to choose one!”

“Picky,” Shiro grins. “Lucky me. Just think, if you had picked differently, you’d probably kissing someone else right now-”

Keith lets out a small, furious growl and Shiro tugs him down, seizing his lips and fisting a hand into Keith’s hair. He tries to make it good, better than usual, sliding his lips over Keith’s and brushing his tongue over the seam of his husband’s mouth lightly. Teasingly. Keith chases him, kissing him down into the floor and when they finally break for air, Shiro finds himself trying to catch his breath.

Keith reaches out to trace Shiro’s lips with his fingertips, his eyes dark and still.

“Was it worth it?” Shiro asks softly.

Keith drops his hand, replacing it with his mouth in another kiss. This one feels like a brand, a claim of ownership. “So worth it,” Keith murmurs.

Shiro doesn’t think he will ever tire of the way Keith’s voice gets husky, or the way he so effortlessly slides a thigh over Shiro’s hip and straddles him against the rug. There’s not much of a barrier with their light workout gear riding between them and it’s easy enough for Keith to feel the bulge in Shiro’s shorts. He offers a tantalizing roll of his hips before kissing Shiro again and Shiro realises there’s a damn good chance they won’t be making it upstairs any time soon. Not like this.

“Are you planning to ruin another rug?” Shiro says gruffly. He drags his fingers lightly down the smooth expanse of Keith’s back, relishing the way Keith arches slightly and lets something that sounds oddly like a purr fall from his chest. “There are easier ways if you want to redecorate.”

“Shut up,” Keith laughs against his neck. He shifts then, shimming his way down Shiro’s body, leaving a wet, damp trail over his pecs and his abs and licking a stripe over the sharp V of his hips.

“Keith,” he groans softly. His fingers drop to his sides, tangling in the threads of the plush rug under him.

“Yeah?” Keith purrs the word out, playful and sly and something about the way he says it makes Shiro’s dick twitch unwittingly. Fuck, even his _voice_ is a turn on. How did Shiro get so lucky?

Shiro doesn’t get to ponder his good fortune any longer before Keith shifts again, his breath is hot on his skin and then he’s hitching a rough inhale of breath when Keith suddenly yanks down his running shorts and his jocks and exposes him to free air.

“Shit,” Shiro hisses between his teeth in surprise. “Keith-“

“I said shut up,” Keith growls then and the tone is playfully sharp that any answering quip dies in the back of Shiro’s throat. He hasn’t quite heard Keith like this before. Shiro’s heart rate flares when Keith places one hand in the centre of Shiro’s chest and holds him in place. Keith has a mock stern expression on his face. “I won the race this morning, didn’t I? Now I want to claim my prize.”

Shiro doesn’t get a chance to respond before Keith bends down and closes over him. He’s all wet heat and a skilful tongue and it’s not long before Shiro is arching off the rug, hands clenched. “Oh my god, Keith-“

There’s a slight pause in Keith’s movements, just enough that Shiro blinks. He feels Keith slide off and then Keith is pushing Shiro’s hands into his hair, encouraging Shiro to curl his fingers against his husband’s scalp.

Shiro’s stuttering brain takes a second to process what Keith is trying to achieve. The air whooshes out of him in surprise. Keith gives him a determined look, and then his mouth is around Shiro again and Shiro’s hands are tangled in those dark strands guiding him. Keith swallows him down once more then his ferocious fire becomes passive and Shiro realises what he wants.

And god, looking down at Keith, those eyes looking back at him and his mouth stretched around Shiro’s length has something primal firing in Shiro. Something that seizes on the invitation in his husband’s eyes and his fingers tighten and he offers one shallow thrust, his legs almost shaking under the intensity of Keith’s gaze.

“Oh my god, _Keith-“_

He rocks again, an intense wave washing over him when Keith hums around him it’s all that he can take before he plants his feet against the floor and starts to fuck up into Keith’s mouth in earnest. And Keith is so good, so warm and hot and he hums in pleasure as Shiro thrusts, Keith’s hands gripping Shiro’s hips with an almost painful grip.  Shiro forces himself to look down, to check Keith is okay, that he’s not forcing himself too deep but Shiro can’t handle it, he can’t handle the wet look in his husband’s eyes, the hungry look just for him.

“Baby,” he gasps, trying to give Keith a modicum of warning and release his hands but Keith detaches one to grasp his wrist, refusing to let Shiro take his hands away and then he’s holding Keith’s head and fucking his mouth and shuddering as the climax rolls through him, his fingers still wrapped in dark strands as he pants and shudders and falls to a melted puddle on the floor. 

“Keith,” he murmurs again but it comes out as half a croak.

Keith slides off and crawls up his body, collapsing to the side with an arm thrown across Shiro’s chest. Shiro can feel how hard he is, and he wants to return the favour, he does, he just needs a moment to catch his breath.

“God, I love you,” Shiro says plaintively. His breath won’t come back, his entire body feels molten. Keith has wrecked him once again.

Keith lifts his head again, propping his chin in one hand, his lips red and swollen and shiny. He looks a lot like Black does whenever Shiro spoils him with a bowl of cream and-

Holy hell.

He tries to organise his thoughts but they’re still just a jumbled mess.

“Bet no one else could make you look like you do right now,” Keith says, no small amount of smugness curving against his lips. It takes Shiro a second to follow his thoughts.

“Just you, Keith. You were made for me.”

“Yeah, I was,” Keith answers and his voice rings with a confidence Shiro hasn’t heard there before. He’s so proud to hear it. So proud and reassured because he’s sure Keith believes it and memory of Keith the night before standing in front of the mirror with his shoulders hunched over as though he was afraid Shiro was going to cast him out flitters and fades away, replaced instead by this.

The moment is ruined when Keith suddenly presses a hard kiss to his lips then crawls over him, leaving him half naked on the rug. Shiro almost whimpers. “Hey, where are you going?”

“Trigel is pissed at me enough as it is after last night, I can’t afford to be late today.”

“Pissed at you? Why?”

“For bypassing the system last night. It’s going to be a headache for her to explain to central comms when the reports go out.”

Keith is yanking off his shoes and Shiro struggles to summon the energy to at least pull up his shorts. He does eventually, but not before a small groan escapes him. _Jesus,_ Keith really was going to kill him if they kept this up. Maybe some space would help him catch his breath. 

Space.

Iverson’s offer.

“Shit,” Shiro huffs then. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“It’s going to have to wait until tonight,” Keith says, climbing to his feet.

Shiro wants to sigh. It can. It’s waited this long. Maybe a few more hours might help him decide on what he actually wants to say. And what he wants his decision to be.

“Tonight,” Shiro says firmly but Keith is already halfway up the stairs.

“Don’t follow me into the shower,” Keith yells down. “Or neither of us will be leaving on time.”


	55. cause all you see is sunshine baby but i'm bringing all the storms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't had as much time or energy to write because of some stuff i'm going through lately so i apologize if anyone is waiting anxiously for updates.
> 
> Some silliness in this one because I needed the giggles
> 
>  
> 
> [ moodboard here ](https://sheithmafsau.tumblr.com/post/177975044726/ch-55-moodboard)

Keith suspects the assignment Trigel hands him is punishment for the extra strings his supervisor had been required to pull the night before so he wisely keeps his mouth shut when she flicks them the job details.

Lance, on the other hand, does not.

“Ground rotation? Again?” he whines to no one in particular as he stares at the job board. “I thought we were done with that for this quarter.”

“You’re lucky that’s all you’re getting,” Trigel says mildly. “Besides, you requested them not so long ago.”

Lance’s mouth pops open to say something more but the stern look Trigel gives him makes him swallow it down quickly. There’s a sour kind of look on his face as he turns on his heel to head to the locker room and Keith suspects that it’s not just the ground rotation assignment that’s bothering him.

Keith goes to follow but Trigel stops him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“Keith, I’ve done what I can,” she says quietly. “I’ve tweaked the reports and the scheduling. But what happened last night, bypassing central comms… That can’t happen again, do you understand me?”

“Yeah,” Keith nods once, his voice as low as his gut. “I do.”

“Okay,” Trigel releases him and steps back. “Aside from that, how’s everything at home?”

Keith knows she’s asking about his relationship with Shiro, about his marriage. By this point he’s so used to everyone wanting a piece of the action he can’t even find the energy to be annoyed by it. She doesn’t mean anything malicious, and she’s not looking for gossip, he knows that much.

“We’re… we’re doing okay.”

She raises an eyebrow but there’s a concerned twist to her lips. “Just okay?”

He can’t stop the flush that heats his cheeks and he needs to turn his face away briefly to hide it. “Well, ah. We left the experiment.”

The astonishment in her tone is palpable. “You did? But didn’t you have a few more weeks to go?”

“Yeah, but… we don’t need them.”

Unlike Lance’s reaction to that news, Trigel’s is one of pure delight.  She throws her arms around Keith’s shoulders in a quick hug and laughs. It’s much more the Trigel he’s used to, the one before the strain of the job in the last few weeks wore her down. “I’m proud of you, Keith. My little prickly pear.”

“Ugh, come on,” he groans in embarrassment. “Don’t call me that.”

She laughs again, patting his arm. “No, really. I’m happy for you Keith. Everything I hear about Shiro is that he’s pretty amazing and you deserve that in your life. You deserve to be happy.”

Keith shifts uncomfortably on his feet at that. “He _is_ amazing,” he says quietly. He’s so lucky to have been given a man like Shiro, luckier again that Shiro loves him back. When he says as much, Trigel sighs ever so softly.

“Keith, if you’ve found something special, treasure it. Don’t let it go.”

The emotion suddenly clogging the back of his throat is too much and it takes him a moment to find his voice again.

“Was it like that for you?” he asks.

“Oh, yes. It didn’t last but while it did, it was wonderful.”

It takes a second for Trigel’s words to register and he blurts out a question before he has time to consider how rude it might seem. In that instance, he’s only thinking of Shiro, and if they didn’t last then how could he recover from that? He’s not sure he would, Shiro is too deeply engrained into his soul and the thought is chilling. He’d been so sick with dread the night before, scared beyond words that Shiro would turn and look at him with something hurtful and full of reproach instead of the tender way he did previously.

It had to be one of the most petrifying things about being in love, that deeply lurking fear that one day the things that currently endeared him to Shiro might be the very same things that would make him look at him with revulsion instead.

“What happened?”

Trigel’s smile doesn’t quite fade completely. It’s still there but it’s soft now. Muted. 

Sad.

“He died,” she says simply.

Keith can’t help the faint gasp that slips past his lips. Even worse than Shiro falling out of love with him would be losing him in a whole different way and there’s a disturbing finger of ice that drags its way down his spine at the thought. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. He’s the reason I’m here now. He wasn’t in my life for a long time, but he helped me find the place I was always meant to be.”

 

* * *

 

“How is she anyway?” Lance asks him when he tracks him down in the change rooms and despite the flat way he says it, Keith is just relieved that Lance is talking to him at all.

Lance at barely looked sideways at Keith since they loaded Ezor onto the stretcher and slid her into the helicopter for transport and Keith still feels the burn of guilt in his gut. Keith’s not surprised that Lance is the first the break the ice though, he’s never been one to keep things bottled up.

“Fuckface,” Lance clarifies when Keith takes a moment too long to answer. “Kolivan sort her out?”

Keith falls into place beside him and peels off the flight jacket he’s not going to need for this shift.

“No,” Keith frowns. “She’s planning to discharge herself today too. Says she’s not safe at the hospital, even though Thace and Kolivan have promised to stand guard so she’s never alone.”

Lance looks at him sharply. The line of disapproval is harsh on his face. “Is Thace up for that? I thought he was sick.”

“He’s still well enough to fire a weapon if he needs to,” Keith retorts hotly but he quickly deflates at Lance’s impassive face. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I’m just… yeah. I’m worried too. But he won’t listen to me.”

“Ugh,” Lance grunts and slams his locker shut. “Never matters how old we get, we’re still always the kid and they always know better, huh?”

Keith lets out a small snort. Lance might be right about that. Thace had been adamant that the responsibility of watching over Ezor wouldn’t fall to Kolivan alone and nothing Keith could say would make a difference.

At least Acxa and Zethrid would be hovering in the wings somewhere too. Keith sighs, but it’s a motion of pure irritation and frustration and his hand clenches into a fist at his side when he tries to think about all the answers he doesn’t have.

“I just wish I knew what she was involved in.”

Lance purses his lips. “I dunno, man. I think you’re better off staying out of it. You’ve got a good thing going on now, don’t go borrowing trouble.”

“Borrowing trouble?” Keith raises an eyebrow, but Lance’s expression doesn’t crack. “She’s scared, and I’ve never seen her scared, but she won’t talk.”

“Guess you guys got that from your dad, huh?”

Keith chooses to ignore that, even though it makes his cheeks sting with heat. He still has no idea what’s going on with Ezor but the guilt lingers in his gut like a bad meal only now it’s compounded by a little more. Something else that weighs on him.

He closes his locker, his hand resting on the cool metal. He tries to swallow but words get stuck in his throat. Right now, it’s not Ezor he’s concerned about.

“Lance,” he says on a rough exhale. He turns to his friend. “For what it’s worth… You were right.”

Lance blinks in confusion. “Right about what?”

“About what you said last night,” Keith tries again. Maybe marriage has made him a little braver when it comes to sharing how he feels to the people he cares about. And he does. He cares about Lance a lot and last night Lance’s words had burrowed deeply enough that he was still thinking hard about them this morning. “About being family. You are. More than blood, more than Ezor and Acxa and Zethrid will ever be.”

Lance’s throat bobs as he swallows but the tension in his shoulders seems to ease a little. His mouth twists into a small smile, not the wide open, slightly manic grin he’s known for, but this one seems just as at home on his face.

“Huh. You’re getting better at this,” Lance tells him, something a bit like surprise and maybe a little bit of pride in his voice.

Keith squirms, cheeks hot. “Yeah, well, don’t-“

He loses any chance he has to finish his response when Lance rolls his eyes then quickly yanks him into a rough hug that makes Keith grunt under the impact. He flails slightly, caught off guard.

Lance is surprisingly strong for his lean frame, and he’s always had a touch of extra height that he has no hesitation about leveraging to his own advantage and he does so now. Keith finds his nose squashed into Lance’s shoulder and he cops a nose full of the fruity fabric softener that laces Lance’s uniform.

“Oh, uh. Okay, so we’re hugging-“

“Yep,” Lance informs him cheerily and for once Keith doesn’t try to squirm and he hugs Lance back, thinking how grateful he is to have a friend like Lance. Someone he knows is always going to have his back.

Wow. Marriage really has turned him into a sap.

Lance releases him just as quickly and Keith finds himself clearing his throat. “So… Uh. We’re good?”

“Yeah, man,” Lance nudges him. “We’re good.”

 

* * *

 

Back at the garrison, Shiro spends the day distracted enough that he accidently gives the second-year pilots a fifth year run in the simulators and doesn’t realise what’s happened until they horrifying crash out in the first ten minutes. For a brief instant he wondered if Iverson was pushing for those martyr manoeuvres again, only to discover when he checks the logs that there’s no sign of the required programs ever having been there at all.

He ponders what it means and resolves to discuss it with Iverson later, only to remember he still hasn’t given Iverson an answer and he _still_ hasn’t discussed it with Keith and he’s still wrestling with a pit of unease in his gut whenever even the vague notation of re-joining the space flight program crosses his mind.

He’s still distracted when Matt catches up with him for lunch.

Matt snaps his fingers in front of his face halfway through their meal. “Earth to Shiro. Hello? Are you there?”

“I’m here. Sorry, Matt. What were you saying?”

Matt frowns at him. “What’s gotten into you today? You look don’t look like someone who’s just spent the weekend wallowing in perfect, marital bliss.”

“Ha, ha,” Shiro mutters. There’s a soft little twist of longing when he thinks about the softer parts of the last few days. When he thinks about Keith, about how warm and loving he is, about his quicksilver temper and sly smirks. He’s the brightest star Shiro has had in his life for a long time and he knows it’s all he needs.

He looks down at his wedding ring, absently rubbing it with the pad of his thumb. He loves his ring, his physical manifestation of the bond they have between them. Would it be enough to stretch through the stars too? From Earth to Kerberos and back?

He doesn’t feel like eating anymore and he shoves his plate away.

“Is everything okay?” Matt asks quietly.

Shiro is silent for a moment, the churning low in his stomach drowning out his thoughts. He sighs.

“I’m not sure.”

“What is it? Is it your arm-“

“No, no,” Shiro waves Matt off before he can dive for his phone to call Pidge and Hunk for an update. “No, it’s fine. Hunk said the diagnostics came back great. It’s better than ever.”

“Yeah?” Matt perks up at that. “I’ll have to get him to send me what he’s done. I bet that it had something to do with the cypher Katie was talking about for the artificial muscle systems and actuation capabilities. When we combined them with the power unit there was some hiccups with the code but- oh.”

Matt breaks off and eyes him warily. “You don’t seem so thrilled about that either?”

“It’s not that,” Shiro wants to smile but the way his lips curve is so tight across his face he’s not sure it’s really more than a grimace. “Iverson is pushing me for an answer.”

“Yeah?” Matt says, biting into his own sandwich. He chews briefly then swallows and stares at Shiro like he’s waiting for a punchline. When the silence lingers a little too long he says, “So, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is, I haven’t got one.”

Matt puts down his sandwich, clearly surprised and it seems to only add to Shiro’s unease. “What do you mean? I thought this was what you wanted?”

“Is it?” Shiro leans back. He drums his metallic fingers on the table’s pale surface absently and stares off into the middle distance. He was a fifth-generation garrison legacy, the garrison was as much of a part of him as his bionic arm.

But did it have to stay that way?

“Well, yeah. I mean, you only asked for a medical discharge because of the stuff with your arm and if you were still enlisted, there would have been no way they would have let you try the tech with Hunk. And then after you came back anyway as a civilian contractor. You love this place.”

Shiro finds himself frowning at that. “Love seems a little strong. The garrison didn’t exactly do me a solid back then, remember?”

“No,” Matt concedes. “But maybe they’re making up for it now?”

Matt frames it like a question, as though he’s not entirely convinced either. Walking away from the garrison had never been an option for Matt and he’d never wanted to. He was happy in his grey uniform, in his lab, engrossed in his research. He’d never doubted his place in the world.

Shiro almost feels a little envious about that.

“Why though?” Shiro finally asks. “What’s going on up there that now they would want me back under their command?” Shiro raises his eyes to the ceiling in a gesture that’s supposed to indicate the sky and space beyond.

Matt gives him a shuttered look, sliding his gaze away.

“Matt,” Shiro cajoles. He’s not above letting his command voice creep into his words and the effects are instantaneous. “Come on.”

“Shiro,” Matt whimpers, his eyes skirting around the room in alarm. “You know I can’t say anything. Especially not here.”

Shiro studies his friend across the table. Matt was all nervous energy but he was easy to read to someone like Shiro who’s known him since before they were rowdy teens. Not that Matt was ever rowdy, but he was chaotic in a whole other sense.

He feels mildly guilty about it but he pins Matt with a look that he knows will make him squirm. The unease in his stomach has evolved into something else. “Is it worth me throwing my marriage away over?”

“What?” Matt leans across, eyes wide.  “Shiro, what did Keith say? Is he- ”

“No! Jesus,” Shiro scrubs a hand over his face. “No. Shit. I don’t even know why I said that. Keith doesn’t know. I haven’t told him yet.”

“Shiro,” Matt hisses. “You’re lucky dad didn’t say anything at dinner the other night.”

“I know,” Shiro cringes. Sam was the only other person aside from Matt who knew of the offer laid in front of him in all it’s glory. He wouldn’t have brought it up at the dinner table without his wife and daughter knowing first, but he very well could have mentioned it in front of Keith when it was just the three of them in the room.

After all, it was the sort of thing you were supposed to talk to your spouse about, wasn’t it?

“Well, you can’t keep this a secret forever. Why do you think it would be throwing your marriage way though? That seems…”  Matt pulls a face.  “Dramatic.”

“I don’t know,” Shiro shakes his head. “But it’s still new, what we have. Still fragile. The time apart… it might damage things.”

It’s strange how the fears he hadn’t quite had the courage to voice to himself suddenly come rushing out of his mouth. For a while he’d convinced himself he could have both. That he could have Keith and follow his dreams except… was that even his dream anymore? Fuck, he wasn’t the same guy now that signed his life away to the garrison’s space program at seventeen years old.

“Look, I don’t know Keith all that well yet, but from what I’ve seen so far, he doesn’t strike me as the sort of guy who would try to stop you. He looks at you like you hung every star in the sky. I mean, you didn’t even _think_ about getting back in the cockpit until you met him.” 

Shiro rubs his hands over his eyes. He suddenly feels really fucking tired and his head hurts. Or maybe that was his heart.

“I know.”

“There are a lot of people who would probably want to thank him for that, you know,” Matt says quietly. He picks up his sandwich again and another long beat of silence stretches out between them. The cafeteria is quiet today, only a handful of other officers around since the vast bulk of the cadets were still in class. They’d timed their lunch well.

Shiro drums his hand on the table again. He has too much nervous energy even after their workout this morning. Too much of a sense of unease warring with a very real desire to go back to the life he used to have. When he was whole and unafraid and young and felt invincible.

“Shiro, can I ask you something?” Matt says quietly. He keeps his eyes downcast but when he raises them, Shiro has the distinct impression he’s not going to like what comes next.

“Of course.”

Matt tilts his head and there’s a small pause, as though he’s trying to find the right words. “If you knew about this offer two months ago, would you have still gone through with the experiment? With the wedding?”

Shiro’s brain stutters. His mouth drops open then snaps shut when Matt looks at him sadly.

“Shiro, you really need to talk to Keith.”

 

* * *

 

The novelty of the ground rotation has well and truly worn off by the time Keith is halfway through his shift.

Local law enforcement had called for assist with a crowd of drunken daytime revellers in one of the seedier parts of the city and Keith and Lance had been quickly dispatched. It’s getting old fast and Keith has to inwardly grit his teeth when a new officer drags over yet another belligerent drunk to their makeshift treatment tent beside the rig. The police officer shoves his drunk hard enough that the man stumbles and thuds against the side of the vehicle.

Keith gives the officer a glare at the overtly rough treatment, but it’s pointless. The officer looks young, fresh out of the academy and clearly with something to prove. The twist of his lips and the hard glint in his eye makes Keith feel suddenly older and more tired than his actual twenty-five years.

“Here’s another one. This guy needs medical assistance,” the cop tells him unnecessarily. There’s a fountain of blood gushing from a cut near the top of the man’s head but it doesn’t look life threatening. 

“Who the fuck are you?” the drunk slurs, flailing when Keith takes him by the shoulders and guides him gently to sit on the back step of the rig. He’s so unsteady that Keith half grunts under his weight when his feet slip and he comes down hard.

The drunk blearily tries to shove him aside.

“Take it easy, we need to stop the bleeding,” Keith says. He spies a glint of something shiny amongst the blood and realises quickly that it’s glass.

Great, this will be fun.

“I don’t need no _fucking band aid,”_ the drunk yells angrily. He tries to shove at Keith but he’s too inebriated to make contact. He lists sideways again until Keith pushes him back with one hand and a sigh.

“Let me guess, I should see the other guy?” Keith says flatly and the drunk leers at him, blood streaked through his matted blonde hair and staining his teeth.

Nearby, Lance is working on another one, ignoring the mumbled insults from his patient. He has to lean back when his patient tries to take a feeble swing at him though.

“Look, buddy, I don’t want to be here anymore than you do,” Lance say firmly. 

Lance catches the drunk’s hand and shoves it down. There’s blood on his uniform already from where he’s tried to wipe away enough of it to see what he needs to work on. The drunk just cackles something ugly at him. “Yeah, yeah,” Lance mutters, more to himself than anything. “I could be at home in my nice warm bed, next to my nice warm girlfriend, but noooo-“

“You have a girlfriend? You?” the drunk asks Lance, squinting up through one half swollen eye. Lance narrows his gaze when the drunk looks at him and ugly cackles once again.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Lance snaps indignantly and the drunk guffaws loudly.

“Don’t bite,” Keith says to Lance under his breath. “That’s what they want.”

“Don’t bite,” Lance mutters back, rolling his eyes.  “Hello pot, this is kettle.”

Keith doesn’t get a chance to respond before the patient under his hands abruptly lunges sideways.  Keith barely manages to step back in time as a wave of vomit hits the pavement. It’s a good thing his reflexes are fast. He only just misses the disgusting mess splashing onto his boot. The stench of bile and stale beer wafts up to make his stomach turn. 

That hadn’t happened since he was a trainee medic years ago.

“Gross,” he scowls and he looks up just in time to catch Lance laughing silently. The laughter dies when the patient he’s working on tries to take another feeble swing at his head but Lance easily catches his hand before it can connect.

“Come on, man,” Lance complains plaintively. “Believe it or not, I’m trying to help you here.”

“You have a girlfriend?” Lance’s patient mumbles again, seemingly stuck on this fact.

“ _Fiancé_ , actually. And the sooner we get you sorted out, the better my chances are of seeing her soon,” Lance announces cheerily.

“I thought _he_ was your girlfriend,” the drunk says, gesturing at Keith then he starts rocking, grunting and snuffling and then letting out a loud crow as though he’s cracked the world’s most hilarious joke.  

The sounds makes Keith’s teeth itch. “What a comedian,” he mutters darkly.

“Don’t bite,” Lance mocks him.  “It’s what they want.”

Keith shoots Lance a warning look and tries not to feel alarmed when Lance’s expression turns sly. “No, he’s married,” Lance says louder, for the benefit of the drunk in front of him. “He’s got a big buff husband waiting for him at home-”

“Oh, yeah?” the drunk leers at Keith.  “You know what they say about marriage, right?”

Keith ignores him, focusing on his own patient, still waiting for the retching to stop before he hauls him upright. Lance’s patient doesn’t let up though.

“Do ya? Huh? _Do ya?_ ” he cackles then slaps his thigh.  “Marriage has three rings, an engagement ring, a wedding ring then _suffering-“_

Keith spends the rest of the afternoon trying not to count down the hours until their shift is over. The day seems to drag on and he eyes the job board back at base nervously when he looks up and sees another symbol flashing beside him name.  There’s one beside Lance’s too.

“Hey, did you sign us up for an extra shift?”

“No,” Lance frowns as he looks up. “Wait a minute-“

There’s the sound of a throat clearing from behind them and they turn around only to come face to face with their team leader once again.

“You’re in the wrong place, boys,” she tells them.

“No, we’re not. We just finished a shift. Please don’t stick us on any more ground rotations, boss. Please-”

Keith’s not entirely sure that Lance isn’t about to drop to his knees and beg but if he does, Keith’s tempted to join him.  He’s tired and he misses Shiro and he really just wants to go home.

Trigel raises an eyebrow and pins her gaze at him. It’s faintly disappointed and Keith struggles to sift through his memories to find a reason why. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot too. I know you’ve been busy with the experiment and your wedding but it’s not like you to forget your commitments, Keith.”

“What?” Keith straightens up. “What commitments? I didn’t sign up for overtime. Not today.”

“Oh, hell,” Trigel mutters and shakes her head but there’s a smile behind her tone that has Keith turning to Lance in askance and Lance shrugging in response.

“What’s she on about?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Trigel sighs heavily and flips out her datapad. Her thin brows furrow as she waves a lean finger over the surface. She doesn’t seem quite so stressed this afternoon and Keith hopes it means she’s finally catching up on some sleep. He still feels faintly guilty about the extra work Ezor had created for her and he suspects he probably will for a while.

“The children’s day event at the hospital,” she says as she turns the tablet’s screen around to show them.  The banner on the screen is familiar but the date isn’t.

Lance groans softly when he sees it. “That’s today?”

“Yes, Brainiac,” Trigel tells him dryly. “You’re both in the wrong place.”

“Shit, Shiro said he’d help out with it,” Keith mutters, already stashing his gear into his locker with sure hands and quick movements. “I need to call him.”

“Already done,” Trigel informs him. “He’ll be waiting for you there. Remember, it’s a new co-ordinator this year. This one I hear doesn’t pull any punches-”

“Wait a second, you spoke to Shiro?”

“Yes,” she stares at Keith frostily for interrupting her. “Good thing you updated your emergency contacts, huh? Now get going and make me proud.”

 

* * *

 

They make it to the hospital with just enough time to spare. Keith’s annoyance quickly fades when he’s on his bike and thinking around the job ahead. They wouldn’t be paid for it as volunteers but that wasn’t the point. This was about giving back a little something to the community, to bring a little bit of joy into the faces of kids that had already experienced more sorrow or illness than some adults would in their entire lives.

If there was something that they could do to bring a smile to those little faces, they were happy to sign up for it.

He arrives on site faintly breathless, Lance hot on his heels. Allura and Shiro are already there, standing with a few others in the lobby and listening intently as a man with ginger hair and a wild moustache directs them and outlines his expectations for the event. 

He looks familiar enough that his face itches at the back of Keith’s mind. He’s usually good with faces but he can’t quite work out why this one eludes him and it makes him frown when he slips into the small crowd and slips his fingers against his husband’s.

Shiro gives him a quick smile and a warm squeeze of his hand in greeting but it’s not until the ginger man starts talking that it the familiarity finally registers.

“Didn’t you photograph our wedding?” Shiro asks before Keith has a chance to. 

“Ah, yes, I thought you two looked familiar. Weddings are my weekend job but this is my real passion. Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe is the name. Are you ready to make these kids smile and laugh in a way the never have before?”

Coran leans close to Keith, a wide grin under his moustache and eyebrows waggling. He smells sickly sweet, like spun sugar at a fairground. The over enthusiastic glint in Coran’s eye makes Keith a little nervous and he shifts his gaze to Shiro in mild alarm.

“Uh. Sure,” Keith says slowly.

“Excellent, then follow me!”

Keith seizes the moment to quickly snag his husband’s attention. “Sorry about this,” he whispers apologetically.  “We got the dates mixed up otherwise we would have mentioned it yesterday.”

“I don’t mind,” Shiro answers quietly and he gives Keith a small smile to show Keith he means it. Coran is still prattling on but Keith has stopped listening. “It’s for a good cause.”

“Yeah, but I know it’s not what you had been expecting to do tonight though.”

They’re not able to talk any more before they get caught by the whirlwind that is Coran. He’s a lot bossier in this environment than he had been at the wedding, clearly in his element, and there’s a part of Keith still feels at odds over whether he should thank him or grumble at him.

After all, it had been Coran nagging at them to actually touch each other on their wedding day. It had been Coran who had witnessed their first real kiss too. Keith privately laughs at the thought.

A short time after Coran’s exuberant introduction, he’s trailing after Allura and Shiro with Lance beside him down the hallways towards the children’s ward in an outfit Coran seems to have cobbled together from left over protective sports gear. 

Lance eyes him as they walk. “What are you supposed to be?”

Keith can’t keep the dismay out of his voice. He’s bewildered at how he got railroaded into this. The usual coordinator wasn’t nearly so pushy and in the past he could avoid anything to ridiculous but not with Coran it seemed.  “A space pirate, apparently.”

Lance’s loud snigger gets bitten off when Keith turns a glare on him. “A space pirate? What, you couldn’t go for just a regular one? You had to be a space one? They don’t even exist.”

“Pretty sure dogs that play guitars don’t exist either,” Keith mutters back. Lance’s dog costume is almost as bad as his, dark shaggy fur and a limp semblance of a tail dragging on the carpet behind him as he carries a guitar in his hand.

Plus, it smells bad.

“How did Allura and Shiro luck out. Look at them, they look like they’re out of a fairy tale.”

They do, Keith concedes, although privately he has no qualms at seeing Shiro dressed up as some kind of knight protector. It seems fitting somehow and Shiro wears the costumed armour well, the silver of his bionic arm blending in beautifully with the outfit.  Beside him, Allura is draped in a blue shimmering gown, her hair plaited into a long braid and flipped over one shoulder. There’s a small circlet on her forehead and Keith almost feels like he should kneel be kneeling in her presence when she turns and her dress swishes around her ankles.  

They’re striking on their own, but paired together, they’re kind of breathtaking and he’s not the only one who thinks so.

“God, we’re a lucky pair, huh?” Lance sighs dreamily. His eyes are firmly rooted on his fiancé. “Allura looks incredible. She really should have been born a princess.”

“Maybe in another life,” Keith muses distractedly. He would have had a great view of Shiro’s ass from here if the costume hadn’t covered it. He feels vaguely cheated by that fact.

“Huh. Maybe.” Lance studies Allura for a moment longer. “Definitely.

The event has been set up in the common area, balloons and colourful banners hanging from the ceiling. There kids and their families seem excited for to meet them and they split up, guided by Coran’s officious commands on where to stand, what rooms to visit but they draw the line at an impromptu play. Coran mutters under his breath then promptly steals Shiro away and the last Keith sees of his husband for a while is a faintly bemused expression on his face as Coran marches him into a ward further down the hall.

Keith tries to enjoy it. The kids are sweet and grateful for even his meagre repertoire of magic tricks but they enjoy his juggling more. Lance strums his guitar and they sing some nursery rhymes and funny songs until his throat, still a little rough from his early morning antics with Shiro, can’t sing anymore and he tracks down one of the nurses to enquire after his husband.

“Oh, the spunky knight?” she laughs. “The kids love him. He’s really taking the role seriously, he came up with a whole backstory and everything.”

Keith chuckles a little at that. “Yeah, he’s a bit of a dork sometimes.”

The nurse gives him an amused smile but it’s soft and indulgent. “Well, whatever he’s doing, it’s bringing a lot of happiness. You all are.”

She leads him to another room and leaves him alone in the hallway just outside. He ducks inside, surprised by the small throng gathered around his husband. Shiro speaks with wildly dramatic inflection as he reads a fairy tale to the kids standing or sitting at his feet as the adults watch on. It’s something about quest he’s on and at one point he brandishes a foam sword and pretends to vanquish a dragon, much to the delight of everyone in the room.

Warmth blooms in his chest and he falls in love all over again.

 

* * *

 

Shiro learns quickly that Coran is too much of a force to be reckoned with so he sighs and gives in and listens with half an ear to whatever outlandish suggestions Coran makes to wow the crowd.

The crowd being a handful of kids, their families and the various nursing staff. He’s suddenly feeling awkwardly out of his depth when their anxious gazes land on him. When he says as much, Coran grabs his shoulders and stares into his eyes.

“Shiro, baby, you’re a star. They love you, you’re the favourite!”

“Uh, thank… thanks?”

Coran puts him to work and he finds that if he just rolls with it, it actually turns out to be a lot of fun. He can’t remember ever reading stories to such young kids, but he does anyway and falls into the enjoyment of acting out different voices and employing dramatic pauses and it turns out to be a great way to keep their attention.

So far, no one has commented on his arm though, at least not until he notices the sharp laser like focus of a young girl in a wheelchair towards the back of the room.  She doesn’t watch his face, he watches his hand and his voice almost falters when he realises there’s an empty space where her knee and left leg should be.

Later, he detaches himself from the crowd and slides towards her, his heart thumping tensely in his chest.

“Hi,” he says softly, pulling up a spare chair to sit beside her. “What’s your name?”

She’s a delicate thing, probably no more than eleven or twelve but her eyes tell a story of a child so much older. Her hair is dark, twisted into two braids that sit against her shoulders and her deep brown eyes look far too big and dusky in her pale face. 

“Seo-yun.”

“Hi, Seo-yun. I’m Shiro.”

She smiles shyly at him and her gaze drops to his hand. Not his human one.

“Where did you get that?” she asks.

“Aliens,” he says seriously and she blinks twice and then dissolves into giggles.

“There’s no such things as aliens,” she tells him.

“No, it’s true. They’re big and purple and… kind of fluffy.”

She giggles again and Shiro feels an immediate and oddly powerful sense of kinship with her. He tilts his head. He doesn’t ask out loud. He doesn’t need to.

She bites her lip as she looks down then she looks up at him from under her lashes.  “Dragon ate it,” she whispers conspiratorially and he has to hold back a smile.

“Was it the dragon from the story maybe?” he whispers back.  “He won’t be giving you any more trouble, I promise.”

She grins at him but her eyes land on his hand again. He thinks there might be a silent question in the twist of her lips. He turns his hand, black palm up and wiggles his fingers. It’s faint but even under the chatter and laughter of the rest of the room around them, her eyes widen at the clicks and whirs the tech makes.

“It moves. Did you make it move?”

He debates for a half a second before he tugs the flimsy material of the knight costume up over his wrist and his arm carefully. He goes slowly, wondering if she might be frightened by the silver and black of his tech and watching her face carefully for any signs she might be but she only stares in rapt fascination. 

If she’s surprised at how far up it goes, she doesn’t show it.

“Can… Can I touch it?”

Shiro tries not to look at the space her leg should be. “Sure,” he says softly and he holds his hand out to her.

She doesn’t hesitate to yank it closer to herself, catching him by surprise and making him laugh as she turns it over to inspect it, even going so far as to poke it at one point. He almost winces at her particularly strong grip when she tugs on a finger.

“Where did you get it?” she asks again. “I mean, really? It wasn’t aliens.”

“No,” Shiro chuckles. She finally relinquishes her grasp and he draws his hand back. “A good friend of mine made it for me after I had an accident and I lost my real one.”

“I wish I had a new leg. I miss dancing.” she tells him with an expression on her face that shreds something inside him. “Can he make me one?” she asks hopefully after a small silence.  “A leg? A leg so I can dance again?”

It’s a question that takes up root in his mind and refuses to leave him alone.

 

* * *

 

It’s hours later when Coran finally releases them but not before trying to extract a pledge from Shiro to come back and help with more events for the kids and it’s all Keith can do to drag his husband away before he ends up the star in one of Coran’s shows. 

“Okay, so you guys still owe us a celebratory toast, since Ezor so rudely interrupted last night,” Lance announces when they meet him on the street outside the hospital lobby. It’s bordering on sunset and the roads are busily building with peak hour traffic.

“She could have died, but okay,” Keith grumbles. Neither Lance nor Keith had been able to stop for lunch and they’re both too hungry to wait to get home to eat that when Allura suggests they find a place to eat, Keith almost wants to kiss her. Almost.

His stomach makes a loud protest and he groans pitifully. Lance responds with a roll of his eyes.

“Whatever. Come on, I know a place,” he says and he starts walking down the street.

“Where are we going?” Shiro asks curiously. He’s back in jeans and a simple black shirt and Keith kind of misses the way his husband’s broad shoulders filled out his costume.

“Oh, you’ll like it,” Lance calls out over his shoulder unhelpfully. “I picked this place especially for you, Shiro.”

Shiro raises his eyebrows and Keith shrugs. “No idea,” he says. “Knowing Lance, it’s probably going to be lame though.”

“I suspect Lance wants to take you to the Japanese dumpling restaurant a few blocks away, Shiro,” Allura says apologetically and Shiro snorts.

“Of course, he is,” he answers wryly but he’s grinning a little too. “At least it’s not Italian, I wouldn’t want to be caught cheating on Colleen’s cooking.”

“Yes, I hear she’s quite formidable.”

“She is. Pidge doesn’t get her spark from Commander Holt, let’s put it that way.”

Lance waits for them outside the restaurant. It’s nondescript on the outside, just a small cartoon image of what appears to be a smiling dumpling lit up in neon and a wide panelled door.

“How about this place, huh?” Lance grins at Shiro, looking a bit like a puppy that’s looking for praise from his master and Keith has to hold back a snicker.

Shiro gives Lance a smile, he’s certainly more gracious than Keith is.

“Come on,” Keith grabs Lance’s shoulders and steers him towards the door. “Enough talking, I’m starving, I don’t care what we eat.”

“Rude, Keith,” Lance informs him.  “You should be more appreciative of your husband’s heritage.”

Keith rolls his eyes as Lance leans on the door and pushes it open. It’s heavy and he grunts as it opens and inside is a brightly bustling atmosphere, crammed with people huddled in booths over plates of dumplings, or around the counter that surrounds the chef’s cooking. As they enter, a shout goes up around the bar but Keith can’t understand what they said.

He sneaks a glance at Shiro to find him laughing quietly and realises of course he did.

Their small group is shuffled to a booth and they slide in easily. Allura and Keith end up at one end beside the narrow window that lets in a sliver of the street lights outside and Lance and Shiro perch at the other. The music playing in the background isn’t anything that Keith recognizes but it’s hard to hear over the constant bursts of cheering and exuberant welcoming of each new customer that enters.

He sneaks Shiro a rueful look. He can tell Shiro’s trying to diplomatic and it’s amusing Keith far more than it should. God, but Shiro was just too good sometimes.

“Feel like home?” Keith snickers under his breath and Shiro shakes his head in droll amusement.  His hand finds it’s way to Keith’s thigh under the table, warmly possessive and without thinking, he links their ankles together under the seat. There’s plenty of room in the booth, but they act like there isn’t.

“Not even close.”

Allura picks up the menu, tapping a finger delicately and trying to argue with Lance over what to order. There’s a suggestion of ordering a few different things and sharing until Lance and Keith start to bicker over the merits of tofu vs pork and it goes on for a full five minutes before Shiro finally snatches the menu.

“Alright, let the grown up’s order,” Shiro says, winking at Allura. She grins back but gracefully defers to Shiro’s choice despite Lance’s put out grumble of alleged betrayal. She pats his hand placatingly and Lance satisfies himself by tucking her close into his side and whispering something in her ear that makes her cheeks flush.

Keith tears his gaze away and leans into Shiro’s shoulder as he looks over the menu. “Anything good?”

“Plenty. You are thirsty and your appetite is big like Godzilla,” he says and it’s bizarre enough that Keith frowns at him in confusion.

Shiro laughs and points to the menu. “That’s what it says.”

“Okay. Hey, you should make Lance try sake.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Shiro eyes Lance across the table.

“What’s not a good idea?” Lance demands, ears pricking up at the mention of his name.

“Sake,” Keith comments innocently only to have Shiro glance at him in vivid disapproval as Lance stands up and orders a round. He waves away Shiro’s delicately cleared throat when he tries to warn him and before they know it, an enthusiastically cheering waitress is standing at their table and pouring a clear liquid into small glasses with both hands.

_‘‘Sake dekimasu!’’_

Lance snatches his up before Shiro can get a word in. “Bottoms up!”

“Lance, wait- oh. Okay then-“

Keith howls with laughter at the pinched expression on Lance’s face even as Shiro winces and murmurs something about _that’s not how you do it, Lance_. Shiro tries to console him but it takes Keith a good minute to wipe the tears away from his eyes and stop laughing.

“You idiot, you should have waited,” Keith tells him but Lance responds by leaning over the table to burp in his face.

Their dishes arrive a short time later and Keith eyes the dumplings and the chopsticks with annoyance. There’s cutlery on the table too but he’ll be damned if he’s going to be the only one to use silverware.

He eyes the nimble way Lance and Allura pick up theirs and start to eat then realises Shiro is watching him from the corner of his eye, lips pursed in a line to stop himself from laughing.

“What?” Keith gripes at him. Shiro leans close to murmur into his ear. Keith refuses to let himself respond to the warm tickle of breath that skates over his cheek when he speaks.

“Need some help, baby?”

Keith frowns at the chopsticks beside his plate, hesitating. He glances again at Lance and Allura and growls at the back of his throat in frustration. “No, I’m good.”

“Sure,” Shiro smiles pleasantly. He pinches a dumpling with his chopsticks, dips it into the accompanying sauces and takes a bite. His eyes never leave Keith’s face.

Keith swallows thickly.

“Don’t do that,” he mutters, partially annoyed, partially turned on. Across the table, Lance and Allura are also eating and talking quietly between themselves, although Lance refrains from ordering any more sake.

“Hey, Shiro, maybe next time Coran will let you be a superhero or something?” Lance says, reaching over to sample a dumpling from a different plate. There’s a whole array on the table as though Shiro’s ordered everything on the menu. He might have, Keith realises. He’s generous like that. “I’m sure there’s a couple with metal arms, you could totally work it into the costume.”

Shiro looks amused by the idea. “I’m not sure. I kind of liked being a paladin and Allura makes a beautiful princess.”

Allura inclines her head regally at the compliment. “Thank you, Shiro.”

Lance huffs. “I’m taking my own costume next time. Maybe like a cool ninja or something.”

Keith wants to snicker at the thought but the dilemma with the chopsticks distracts him. He manages to bring himself to pick up the chopsticks but that’s as far as he gets before Lance unexpectedly eyes him with suspicion.

“I thought you said you were starving?”

“I am,” Keith grits out. He suddenly has the urge to stab something. He vainly hopes Lance goes back to talking about whatever it was he was talking about with Allura so Keith can wrestle with the offensive utensils in peace.

His mood isn’t helped by the very subtle and faint trembling of his husband’s shoulders beside him.

“Are you _laughing?”_ he hisses in fury and that’s all Shiro needs for the laughter to fall out of his chest and ring out over the table. Lance eyes him then Keith before quickly breaking out into a loud cackle himself.

For all of Lance’s playing at being dumb, he’s unfortunately quick when he needs to be.

“Oh my god,” he hoots. “Can’t you use the chopsticks? Keith! Aren’t you supposed to be Asian too?”

“What? What are you talking about, Lance?” Cheeks stinging pink, Keith finally grasps the chopsticks and fumbles enough to pick up a dumpling, only to hear a murmured _there you go, baby_ from Shiro that makes him growl at the back of his throat again.

“Kogane,” Lance stares at him. “That’s Japanese too isn’t it?”

“Probably about as Japanese as McClain is Cuban,” Keith snarks back rudely.

“Ha, ha. You’re just pissed because you’ve probably never thought of it before.”

Something about that makes him pause and his mouth drops open only to snap shut again.

“No, really,” Lance says enthusiastically. “It is, isn’t it?”

Keith turns his gaze on his husband with narrowed eyes. “Is it?”

Shiro shrugs casually. He reaches for a dumpling and deposits it onto Keith’s plate.  “Maybe. It might be.”

Lance wrinkles his nose at Shiro’s weak confirmation and turns to his fiancé instead. “Princess, what do you think?”

Allura shakes her head, a curl coming loose from her braid and draping against her neck. She’s following the conversation with amusement but refrains from getting dragged into it.

Keith’s stomach rolls pitifully, threatening to devour itself so he resolutely shapes his hands around the chopsticks and goes for the dumpling on his plate. At least Shiro had cut the distance it needs to travel and he manages to get at least one into his mouth and chew.

Shiro dares to give him a wink and mouth _I’m proud of you_ and Keith’s once again tempted to just stab his dumpling next time out of spite.

The meal continues, and Keith manages to sample most of the dishes without too many false alarms. Lance goes to hand him a fork at one point and Keith all but snarls a him. He stubbornly promises himself right there he’s going to master those chopsticks or die trying.

He’s only half listening as Allura starts to talk with Shiro about his childhood. She tells him she had been slated to attend a conference there a few years ago but it had been cancelled at the last minute. She had always been disappointed she never got to go but somehow, she never got around to rescheduling a visit.

Her words tickle something at the back of Keith’s mind. He forgets about his meal briefly and nudges his husband. “When was the last time you went back?”

Shiro pauses before he lowers his chopsticks. “I was three when I moved here. The last time I went back was a couple of years after my parents died.” His expression changes. It seems to shutter and turn a little melancholy. “I always planned to go back, but I was always busy and then…”

He shrugs.

The air becomes weighted and Keith tries not to grow alarmed at the way Shiro is suddenly staring at him a little strangely.  He doesn’t recognize the expression, he can’t decipher it. “Shiro?” Keith says softly. “What is it?”

“We could go,” Shiro says then, as though surprised the thought has never occurred to him before. Maybe it hasn’t. “To see Japan, I mean. We could go together.”

Any lingering irritation that might have been sitting under Keith’s skin ebbs away under the force of Shiro’s soft grey eyes. He looks so earnest, like a small child asking for permission for their favourite treat but somehow expecting to be rejected.

Keith takes Shiro’s hand, the flesh one that had been resting warmly on his thigh and squeezes it. “We’ll charter a jet, fly ourselves,” he jokes but inside he’s desperately chanting _yes, I’ll go anywhere with you, Shiro._

Shiro pulls him close and the movement makes Keith drop his dumpling. A small splash of dipping sauce lands on his shirt. 

Totally worth it.

 

* * *

 

Keith has his bike so he playfully races him home.

Keith has the advantage, a sleek red blip weaving through the traffic over the bridge, taillights glowing in the darkness before he’s out of sight completely and Shiro doesn’t see him again until he’s pulling into the driveway of their townhouse.

Keith leans against his bike with arms crossed, his dark hair mussed over his eyes and a smirk on his lips. He’s gorgeous in a way that makes Shiro ache.

“What took you so long?” he teases when Shiro gets out of the car.

Shiro chuckles and walks to him, quickly tugging Keith into his arms as soon as he’s within reach and planting a heated kiss onto his lips. Keith leans into it, parting his lips easily when Shiro deepens the kiss, probing with his tongue even as he curls his hands possessively around his husband’s narrow waist.

Shiro blinks when Keith breaks off abruptly and steps back. “Nuh uh,” he pants, lips stained red from their kiss. “I remember what happened last time you kissed me next to the car.”

Shiro almost chokes on his tongue and his cheeks heat at the memory. “That was a one time thing,” he protests weakly but Keith gives him a mischievous look from under his dark hair before he turns away.

“Hmm, I kind of hope not. But I have something else in mind for tonight.”

“Oh, yeah?” Shiro follows him up the internal stairs, enjoying the way Keith’s jeans mould to the shape of his husband’s backside far too much. “And what’s that?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Like that is it?” Shiro chuckles and Keith goes straight to the pantry, pouring out a bowl of kibble for Black who perches on the end of the kitchen counter regally. He’s not sure when the responsibility of feeding Black suddenly fell to Keith but he doesn’t question it.

Now that they’re home, the looming shadow of what he needs to talk to Keith about feels so much larger and heavier. He kept thinking on the drive home how he was going to approach it, what he was going to say. Was there a way to make it less painful? Was it even worth it if it was this much of a struggle to even mention it?

What does he even want anymore?

It’s these little moments he would miss if he dragged old dreams out of the dust and went to the stars. The quiet moments standing in his kitchen with Black and Keith. Moments like today, making kids who already struggled so much in their short lives smile, moments with their friends, sharing a meal and some bad jokes.

Little moments of love and affection and working through their differences. But he’d need to stick around for that. He needed to be here for that. Love wasn’t all grand gestures and wordy promises, it wasn’t just whispered gasps in the dark. At some point the promises become work, and if they get it right, love becomes stronger, deeper.

He gives Black a scratch under one ear in an effort to distract himself before his thoughts spiral. A small pile of mail on the counter catches his eye and he rummages through them as Keith goes about unlacing his boots.

“Ah. Keith?” he says softly, staring down at the most recent statement of his bank account, the one he’d arranged Keith to have access to a few weeks ago. The number at the bottom is significantly larger than last time.

“Yeah?”

“There’s a… ah, a rather sizable contribution here.”

He holds up the statement and Keith’s eyes slide to it briefly before sliding away again.

“Oh,” Keith answers casually. “Yep.”

Shiro struggles to tamper down on the sudden warmth in his chest. “You didn’t have to do this,” he says then.

Keith shrugs and ducks his head in that small, self-conscious way of his.  “Well, didn’t make sense to have multiple accounts and fees and you already gave me access so-“ Keith shrugs again.

“There’s a lot,” Shiro tells him. Keith snorts.

“It’s nothing compared to what was already there.”

Shiro chooses to ignore that. Yes, there was plenty there but the bulk of it had been part inheritance, part payout. He drops the statement to the kitchen counter and advances on his husband with the intention of hauling him upstairs and kissing him senseless.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Shiro murmurs when he reaches him. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Come with me.”

Keith takes his wrist and leads him up the stairs to their bedroom and Shiro thinks he might finally get a chance to repay Keith for his attentions earlier.

It turns out his husband has other ideas.

Keith quickly divests him of his shirt and walks him back towards the bed, a palm in the centre of his chest, his other hand tucked behind his back. There’s a confident little glint in his eye that Shiro finds he likes very, very much.

“What are you doing?” Shiro asks curiously when Keith pushes him backwards hard enough to send him sprawling against the sheets. He bounces a little on the bed but he doesn’t go far.

“Shh,” Keith climbs onto his lap and takes his hands, pushing them over his head and pining him down. “Stay like this and close your eyes.”

“Hmm, god I love it when you get bossy,” Shiro sighs, but he does as Keith tells him. Keith shifts, wriggling back slightly to straddle Shiro’s hips. He’s in Shiro’s favourite spot and Shiro can’t help the immediate way his body responds. He tries to roll his hips up slightly but Keith pins him with a squeeze of his thighs.

“Yeah? You like being told what to do, Lieutenant?” Keith teases, his voice soft like velvet. There’s a promise behind his words that Shiro finds himself mentally reaching for.

“Only by you,” he answers softly and it surprises him how true the sentiment is. Shiro’s eyes are closed and he can’t see Keith’s reaction but he hears the faint inhale of breath.

Keith runs a hand over him, a lightly calloused palm skimming over the planes of his chest. He loves the way Keith touches him like this, his fingers splayed wide and the pressure just enough to feel loving and demanding at the same time. Keith stokes him a few more times, enough for Shiro to sigh into it then he hears the faint click of something he doesn’t quite recognize. He squeezes one eye open to investigate, only to be met by his husband’s ferocious glare.

“Didn’t I tell you not to peek?”

“Yes, sir,” he murmurs and Keith stares at him until his lids drift closed again. A smile curves his lips and then he gasps when something cool drags along his skin. His eyes snap open. “What was that?”

“Body paint markers,” Keith tells him with a smirk. He holds up a handful of pens, each one a different colour. “Swiped them from the event today. Close your eyes though, let me work my magic.”

“Magic, huh?” Shiro hums and lets his eyes slowly close. He concentrates on the weight of Keith on his lap, the drag of the pen tips over his skin. It feels wet and cool at first touch, a powdery liquid that seems to dry quickly in the warm air of their bedroom. 

“Do you know what I’m drawing?” Keith asks after a moment. 

Shiro follows the tips over his skin but he can’t make much out. The strokes are small and occasionally Keith pauses and he hears another click of a cap being taken off when Keith chooses a different colour. Maybe if Keith was using words, it would be easier but Shiro was sure it was something else.

“No,” he answers honestly.  “But I’m dying to know.”

“Keep your eyes closed,” Keith reminds him, planting a quick kiss against his lips before he starts again. Shiro loses track of how long he lies there, the skin of his chest and shoulders feeling strangely tight under the dried paint. His entire top half now seems to be adorned with it and he wonders if there would be any on his prosthetic too, although he hadn’t felt any pressure on it so far. It’s when Keith moves to his stomach that his muscles jump and skitter and Keith growls low. “Stay still,” he mutters.

“I’m trying, but it tickles.”

“Need me to stop?”

“No, whatever you’re doing… keep going.”

There’s a brief pause and Keith shifts and Keith feels him press a kiss into his flank. Even with his eyes closed, it’s easy to lift his hand and tread it through his husband’s hair. This isn’t how he expected their evening to go but he’s grateful, so grateful.

“Keith,” he sighs into the quiet. Keith continues tracing over his skin, and Shiro wonders how much longer he’s going to have to be there until Keith sits back with a satisfied huff. 

“Come on,” he says as he slides off Shiro’s lap. Shiro misses his warmth and his weight instantly.

He climbs to his feet and trail after Keith to their ensuite bathroom, only to stop in his tracks in front of the mirror and stare at his reflection.

The top half body has been turned into a canvas, small, intricate little scenes over his skin that are a riot of colour and shape. Keith hovers at his side, his eyes wary as Shiro runs a finger down over each smatter of colour and Shiro’s breath hitches in his throat.

“Is that… is that the beach from our honeymoon? And the hammock?” Shiro says in awe as he studies his reflection. It’s barely a few streaks of colour but the rendering leaves no doubt. There’s a scene of a beach shack on one pec, a black shape on his shoulder he realises is the car. On his bicep a black cat curls up in stylized ink, each image representing something of theirs and a moment in their history.

He looks closer and realises there’s even the cake topper from their wedding drawn on his skin, one little figure shorter than the other and Shiro feels his throat close up at the memory. God, he’d been so hopeful that night but nothing came close to the reality of what he feels now, of what they’re building together. It takes him a second to blink away the moisture that starts to pool in his eyes.

“Keith,” he breathes and he can’t decide if he wants to risk the artworks on his skin by pulling his husband into his arms and kissing him within an inch of his life or if he wants to stand there and admire it forever.

Keith takes the decision out of his hands, stepping close and pressing his face into the space between his shoulder blades. His hands rest against Shiro’s hips. “I love you,” Keith whispers into his skin and his fingers tighten, as though he’s grasping at something he’s about to lose.

Shiro gently pries away one of Keith’s hands and raises it to his lips, kissing his husband’s knuckles softly and tenderly. His heart is so full it wants to burst out of his chest and he knows that nothing… nothing else in that moment can compare to the way Keith makes him feel inside.

“I didn’t know you were such an artist,” Shiro says softly. His voice creases with the force of emotion inside him. “You’re full of surprises.”

Keith wrinkles his nose dismissively but leans his head against Shiro’s shoulder. “I’m not, really. They’re just doodles.”

“Just doodles? Wow. Why haven’t I seen you draw at home?”

Keith takes a moment to answer. “I’m not sure what will come out,” he says simply and it takes Shiro a little moment to process it.

Keith’s job holds a lot of joy but there’s a lot of sadness intermingled with it too.

“Compartmentalizing,” he murmurs and Keith nods beside him.

“Maybe I’ll start again though,” he says eventually. He traces one of the scenes with the pad of his finger. It looks like a mountain view. “Put these on paper instead.”

“It’s going to be a crime to wash them off,” Shiro muses.

“I’ll draw more,” Keith answers then tilts his face up for a kiss. Shiro doesn’t hesitate to indulge him. He’s keenly aware of the drying ink across his skin so he bends carefully, not willing to ruin the artwork yet. The kiss is soft and meaningful Shiro doesn’t quite want it to stop.

It does though, just a moment later when Keith’s phone rings from the other room and Keith forcing himself to step back with a wince. “I’d better get that.”

“Work?” Shiro trails out of the bathroom after him. Keith looks at the screen before he answers but he nods at Shiro and gives him an apologetic look as he shoves the phone against his ear and shoulder as he talks and disappears into the robe.  He comes out with a fresh uniform in his hands and Shiro’s stomach falls.

Ah. There’s his answer.

Keith hangs up and quickly changes before coming back to Shiro and pulling him down for a kiss.

“I’ll miss you,” Shiro hears himself say, frustration and disappointment warring with resignation inside of him. Another missed opportunity.

“You have something to remember me by,” Keith grins, gesturing at the colour on Shiro’s skin.

His phone trills again, just as the doorbell goes and Keith’s smile turns into a scowl. He marches to the balcony and steps outside, leaning over the railing.

“I’m coming!” he yells out and Shiro hears Lance’s distinct voice yell something back he should probably be glad he doesn’t understand judging by the way Keith’s scowling by the time he comes back into the room.

Keith gives him one more quick peck and then he’s gone.

In the silence that lingers, Shiro finds himself wandering back to the bathroom. He stands in front of the sink, admiring the art on his skin once again, trying to make sense of the tangled mess of his thoughts and his emotions. The space between his head and his heart is starting to feel like a warzone and it makes him tired.

He focuses on the paint on his skin. It’s the history of their marriage here, each small scene or symbol a reminder of their times together. A reminder of the moments that had them falling in love.

It hasn’t been long but it already feels like a lifetime. A lifetime that Shiro wants to grow and nurture. He wants more of this with Keith. More sunny afternoons in hammocks, more drinking cocktails on the beach, or stargazing or napping under lazily turning fans.

He trails his fingers over each one, smiling softly and basking in the swell inside of his chest as each memory replays behind his eyes. The snaps of their bond are so powerful, Shiro can almost imagine Keith’s hands trailing along with him. It all makes him smile, until he reaches the space above his heart adorned and his smile falters.

It’s a dark space above his heart, filled with stars and a crescent moon and a retro styled rocket ship spewing gold and red flames. He recognizes what this symbolizes. It’s not just memories Keith has painted onto his skin, it’s hopes and dreams too.

And Keith still thinks that space is one of his.

He stares at it for a long moment, until the black paint and pin pricks of white start to look like an oily abyss trying to eat him alive, until the paint feels tight and itchy and he can’t bear to look at it anymore. He wets down the washcloth with strangely shaky hands and swipes it over his chest, staining the white washcloth black with chalky paint. He wipes until the scene symbolising the garrison that rests against his heart is clear.

The rest he keeps.


	56. can't I just turn back the clock and start again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (possible trigger warning: mention of child injury & vehicular accidents)

The heavy curtains in their bedroom are still drawn closed when Keith comes awake. They block out all the morning light but the warm glow coming from the ensuite bathroom tells him it must still be early. That, and the soft sound of water hitting the tiles in the shower.

He rolls over to reach for his phone, flicking on the screen to check the time. It’s as he suspected, early enough to not be running late to start his day, but late enough that he can’t continue to lie back and indulge in the softness of the sheets. When he hears his husband’s slightly off key singing over the sound of the shower, he grins to himself and rolls out of bed.

“Hey, our neighbours in 3B called in with a noise complaint” he teases, stripping off his sleep pants and his underwear and stepping into the spray. He briefly admires his husband’s perfectly formed ass and back muscles before he slides his hands around Shiro’s waist and presses against him. He’s warm from the water and slippery with soap.

Shiro’s hand encloses over the top of his and he glances back at Keith over his shoulder.  “We don’t have neighbours in 3B.  Where is 3B?”

“I know, but if we did, I’m sure they’d be complaining.”

Shiro gives him a salacious wink. “Baby, you love my singing, don’t even try to deny it.”

Keith laughs quietly into space between Shiro’s shoulders, just a soft snuffle that makes Shiro give his hand a squeeze. 

“I was trying to let you sleep a bit longer.”

“Can’t,” Keith shrugs, stifling a yawn. “Gotta go to work soon.”

“You were back so late last night.” Shiro turns in Keith’s hands and drapes soapy arms over Keith’s shoulders. He drops a light kiss to Keith’s nose indulgently. “Everything go okay?”

“Yeah, fine. Nothing too dramatic, just a gastro outbreak on a cruise ship off the coast that the ship wasn’t equipped to handle so they needed us to do a few runs between the ship and the hospital to transfer some passengers.”

“A gastro outbreak on a cruise ship? That sounds… unpleasant.”

“I know, right? Talk about the cruise from hell.” Keith wrinkles his nose at the thought. “At least it didn’t take the whole night. No problems getting the body paint off?”

He runs his eye over the smooth, broad chest in front of him. There’s no sign of the paint at all now, but that was hardly surprising given the how long Shiro had been in the shower. If the water and soap didn’t strip it all away, just the steam alone would have. 

He kind of misses it. It had been an emotional roller-coaster to hunch over Shiro’s chest and arms and draw all their most important moments onto his skin. He was glad he’d made Shiro keep his eyes closed, because his own had pricked more than once and he’s not entirely sure what expression he had been wearing as he worked.

“I made sure I took as many photos as I could,” Shiro tells him. “Before I washed it all off. I never want to forget what it looked like.”

“Yeah?” 

Keith ducks his head and Shiro captures his chin with his metallic finger and tilts his face up to plant a wet, soft kiss against his lips. He wants to sigh into it, the tenderness of the caress sweeping him away despite the cobwebs of sleep still trying to cling to him. Shiro makes him feel so treasured, so anchored, and after the whirlwind of the last few days, he wants to soak up as much of that peace as he can.

“God, I love you,” he murmurs, his heart so full in his chest he very seriously contemplates begging Shiro to press him against the tiles and take him right there and then because he just wants to feel Shiro on every part of him, inside and out. 

Shiro releases him before he has a chance though, stepping back and starting to croon again, something upbeat and playful that Keith recognizes as a song that was popular back when they were kids.

He tries to fight the ridiculous smile that threatens to split his face, but Shiro is too bright and cheerful and Keith can’t help but be drawn into his warmth and good humour.

“What’s got into you this morning?” he finally asks after Shiro trails off long enough to rinse the suds from his hair. “You’re in a good mood.”

Shiro smiles then nudges him, turning him around until he’s dunking his head under the water and then Shiro is rubbing his fingers through his hair, massaging the shampoo into his dark strands. He’s become so good at it that Keith can’t help the sigh that falls out of his mouth at the gentle massaging touch.

“I had an epiphany last night,” he says simply. Keith squints up at him through soapy hair.

“Did it hurt?”

Shiro snickers and follows it up with a light pinch that makes Keith yelp with laughter.

“Brat,” he mutters, right before Keith holds the washer away and demands a kiss before he hands it over. He obliges but Keith’s curiosity is piqued and Keith breaks off the kiss when he remembers something Shiro had said in passing when Keith still had the taste of him on his tongue.

“What did you want to talk to me about yesterday? Does it have something to do with your… epiphany?”

“Ah,” Shiro grins at him then, just a flash of white teeth before he tugs Keith back under the water. “Well, there’s a few things I need to do first, but it does.”

“Hmm, and are you going to give me a hint at least?” Keith gives his head a toss, flicking the damp hair back from his face. Shiro’s bright eyes dim slightly, the playfulness simmering down into something deeper, more serious. He reaches out to cup Keith’s cheek, the palm of his human hand cradling Keith’s jaw sweetly. 

“You know I love you, right? And that I’m one hundred percent committed to us, to what we have?”

Keith can’t help the way his eyes narrow. Shiro’s sudden intensity pricks at the back of his spine uneasily. “Shiro, you’re being weird. What’s going on?”

Shiro holds his gaze for a moment longer, grey eyes turning the colour of storm clouds and his gaze dropping to Keith’s mouth. When Shiro’s thumb sweeps over Keith’s bottom lip and his bionic hand finds its way to Keith’s hip, he almost forgets he’s waiting to hear what Shiro has to say.

“You’ve changed my life, Keith. Marrying you was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“Funny. I could say the same thing about you. I didn’t say it last night but… thank you, by the way.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “For what? Marrying you? That was hardly a hardship.”

Keith flicks a handful of soap suds at him. “I mean for being a part of the event at the hospital. With the kids.”

“It was fun,” Shiro says brightly but then his expression shifts. “I met Seo-Yun.”

Keith suspected Seo-Yun and Shiro might find each other and he’s glad they did, although the gravity in Shiro’s eyes now makes him wonder if perhaps he’d misjudged. Seo-Yun’s story was a sad one and one that Keith and Lance had been privy to intimately. They’d been one of the first responders on the scene of horrific smash that had killed both her parents. Her leg had been so damaged from the crash there was nothing doctors could do but to amputate and Keith could still remember the sounds of her screaming over the sound of the helicopters rotors.

No child deserved to go through that.

“You did, huh. She’s been through a lot.”

Shiro peers at him through the spray. “You say that like you know firsthand.”

Keith glances away. It’s too early in the morning to rehash an old memory like that.  Instead he forces a smile and taps the metal plating on his husband’s bicep. “Bet she liked your arm.”

Shiro pauses, as though he’s going to ask more then thinks better of it. He mimics Keith’s smile.

“She did,” he says and he flexes his bionic fingers before placing them possessively on Keith’s hip.

Keith stares up at him, suddenly finding it hard to speak beyond the lump in his throat when he recalls the glimpse he’d caught of Shiro in his knight costume beside the tiny Seo-Yun. The expression on both their faces had made the breath catch in his lungs. Shiro had made her laugh and she’d done the same for him, and Shiro had treated her with kindness and warmth and all the things that made him the man Keith adored.

Shiro didn’t have to do any of it. But he did, and he had done it with such heart that Keith knew those kids and the staff on the wards would be talking about him for weeks to come.

“How do you do that?” Keith croaks out, his voice sticking in the swell of this throat. He’s soapy all over and Shiro tilts his head curiously as he helps to rinse him off.

“Do what?”

“You keep making me fall in love with you, all over again. Just when I think I can’t love you any more, I do, even more than before.”

Shiro’s smile is small and he holds open his arms in welcome and it doesn’t matter that the water is starting to turn cold or that his finger tips are wrinkling like prunes or that he’s suddenly, unexplicitibly emotional, he falls into his husband’s arms without hesitation.

“I just want to make you happy,” Shiro murmurs. His hands skim their way up Keith’s back and Shiro seeks out the line of his jaw, planting soft little kisses along it. Keith can’t help the delicious shiver that rolls over his skin at the contact.

Then Shiro lifts his head and his eyes when they meet Keith’s are dark and full of heat. “And I think I know just how to do it.”

Keith gasps when the cool tiles hit his back and Shiro presses him into the shower wall with one heavy hand in the centre of his chest. Shiro kisses him possessively before he can pause to wonder what his plans are and then he’s whispering against Keith’s ear.

“I believe it’s my turn today,” Shiro says huskily and Keith’s brain can’t catch up with his body, all his blood is rushing elsewhere.

“Shiro,” he sighs, then suddenly Shiro is on his knees in front of him, his mouth warm and wet and sliding over him and Keith can’t do anything other than let his head fall back with a dull thud against the tiles and grip the short buzz of Shiro’s undercut as he gasps out his husband’s name over and over again.

\--

Shiro doesn’t want to let Keith go, not after the fog of indecision has all but cleared away and he knows now what he wants to do but he manages to steal a final kiss in the garage before Keith slips out of his grasp to yank on his helmet, laughing quietly at Shiro’s incessant pawing.

Keith’s voice crying out his name still rings in his ears as he slides into the car and wraps his hands around the steering wheel with a renewed determination.  The car rumbles to life around him and as soon as the large door rolls down behind him and he’s peeling into the street, he dials Hunk and fills him in on his proposal.

Hunk is quiet on the line when he finishes, and a small ball of anxiety comes to life in his gut. He needs Hunk for this. Without Hunk, he won’t be able to achieve what he wants to set out to do.

“Hunk? What do you think? Is it viable?”

On the other end of the line, there’s a rustle and a low hum. Shiro suddenly regrets not talking to him in person so that he can see his face. Sometimes the expression in his eyes was a better clue than anything that came out of his mouth.

“Well, technically everything was done outside of the garrison’s sanctions and I wasn’t contracting to them back then so I don’t think they could have any claim to the tech,” Hunk muses. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“Without a doubt.”

“We’d need some serious capital to do this. That could be a mission all on its own.”

“I know, but… I think I might have enough tucked away to get us started. Does that mean you’re on board?”

There’s no hesitation this time. “I’m in,” Hunk tells him. There’s a tremble in his voice, but it’s threaded with determination. He ends the call just as he passes through the first of the many garrison checkpoints.

It’s hard to concentrate when his mind is elsewhere but Shiro manages to keep his mind on task long enough to get through the morning. Matt gives him a speculative look when they meet for lunch during a lull in the cafeteria and Shiro isn’t capable of keeping it to himself for a moment longer.

Over a rapidly cooling bowl of the garrison’s mac and cheese, Shiro fills Matt in with hushed tones.

“You know Lotor can help you with the legalities,” Matt says casually when he’s finished. Too casually for Shiro not to raise his eyebrows.

“You and Lotor are chums again, huh?”

Matt flushes. “More than that. We’re a match.”

Shiro had been expecting a confirmation of sorts, but not quite like this. “A match?” he echoes.

“Yes.” Matt nods. “Those tests you and Keith had to do… Well, they’re doing another round soon for the experiment. More matches to increase their odds and Lotor and I…”

Shiro’s jaw goes slack before he remembers to snap it shut.  “When… What… You know what, it doesn’t matter. It’s real?”

The small smile on Matt’s face is all the answer Shiro needs.

“Does this mean you’re getting married?”

“No,” Matt mutters, cheeks burning pink. “No, I just… Look, it was supposed to be for science. I wanted to know how they matched you and Keith so perfectly. Lotor agreed to take me through the process. We used each other as test subjects and then…” Matt laughs weakly. “Oops. Hi, we’re a match.”’

“That must have been a hell of a surprise.”

Matt has the grace to look a little sheepish. “Not as much as you might think.”

Shiro laughs. “So, what happens now?”

“Now we’re-“ Matt waves his hand vaguely and makes a weird expression with his face that’s part smile, part a grimace. Shiro supposes that’s all he’s going to get and he’s okay with that. Then he remembers what Matt said to get them onto the subject of Lotor in the first place.

“And you think Lotor can help us?”

“Yes,” Matt nods, this time full of enthusiasm.  “Definitely. He… ah. There was a falling out with his mother and he’s a free agent now. But what you’re planning… it’s kind of his thing.”

“Really,” Shiro murmurs. It feels oddly fortuitous, like perhaps the universe is sending him a message. “That’s handy.”

The rest of the day rolls by painfully slow. The cadets seem to sense his restlessness and he finds himself snapping at them more than he has in weeks when he’s no prepared to put up with their half assed scores on the sims. It feels like the same dance he’s done with them year after year and for the first time, the flight training centre feels claustrophobic.

He’s in his office flicking irritably through sim scores of the first years and not liking what he’s seeing when there’s a knock at the door and he bites back a sigh before he looks up.

“Got a minute, lieutenant?”

Keith leans against the doorframe casually, arms crossed over his chest and a sexy smile on his lips that is somehow all the sexier because Keith doesn’t even know how sexy he is.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Shiro doesn’t hesitate to get up and pull his husband into the room, shutting the door quickly on the startled face of a cadet passing by and not caring if said cadet runs to tell his friends. Instead, he crowds Keith against the back of the door and cups his face. He threads his fingers under Keith’s hair, pulling it loose from the small tie at the nape of his neck as he kisses his husband deeply.

Yeah, he thinks as their lips slide together. This is right here is where he belongs. This is everything he needs right here.

“Wow,” Keith murmurs, a little breathless when they break from their kiss. “I would have visited you at work a lot sooner if I knew that was the welcome I was going to get.”

Shiro presses their foreheads together, his hands heavy now on Keith’s waist. He basks in the warmth of him, the familiar smell of skin and his cologne. It nestles right into Shiro’s chest. “I’m happy to see you.”

“You’re always happy to see me,” Keith grins. He plants a quick peck on Shiro’s lips then quickly ducks around him to wander about the room. It takes a moment for Shiro to force his legs to carry him back to his desk, mesmerized as he is by the sight of Keith in his office. He’s not in uniform right now, clad in his black Kevlar jeans that do amazing things for his thighs, a snug black v-neck shirt and a pair of fingerless gloves. He must have left his jacket with the bike.

He looks good enough that Shiro has to physically tear his eyes away and get the lovesick beat of his heart under control before he inadvertently jumps his husband for the second time that day.

Love was making him crazy. These plans for their future were making him crazy but he’s excited in a way he hasn’t been in years.

“So, this is your office, huh?” Keith flashes him a heated look over his shoulder.

“Yep,” he answers casually as he walks back to his desk and retakes his seat. He leans back in his chair with a tablet in his hands as though to continue working as he feigns nonchalance at Keith’s presence here.

The smirk on Keith’s face tells him he doesn’t buy any of it.

“It’s not as big as I thought it would be.” He pauses in front of the star charts on the back wall, a funny little expression on his face Shiro can’t quite read. “And what’s with all the orange. Doesn’t it give you a headache?”

Shiro laughs quietly at that. Privately, he agrees but outwardly he merely shrugs. “You get used to it.”

“Hmm,” Keith looks away from the star charts and wanders closer. Even the quirk of his lips isn’t enough to prepare Shiro for the way he plucks the tablet out of Shiro’s lax hand and shoves it to the side. He stands between Shiro’s slightly parted knees and flashes a smirk before he slides his backside onto the desk. He raises one booted foot to the edge of Shiro’s chair and rests his forearm against his knee, leaning forward to give Shiro a very heated look.

“Hi.”

“Hi, yourself,” Shiro says back in amusement. He’s not quite sure where Keith is going with this little display but Shiro is happy to let it play out.

Keith’s lips twitch. “So, ah… Does that door have a lock, lieutenant?”

“It might do,” Shiro murmurs in response. He actually has no idea, it’s never been something he’s needed before.

“Hmm,” Keith says again and he leans a little closer, his lips shiny from where he’d bitten them and a pointed jaw jutted out ever so slightly. Shiro is pretty sure Keith is daring him right now, pushing him to see where his limit is. Shiro can’t say he’s ever fucked on garrison grounds before but there’s a first time for everything and right now, with Keith looking at him like that, he’s seriously starting to consider it.

“You know the hallway is full of cadets, right?”

Keith shrugs lazily. “So?”

“So?” Shiro shakes his head incredulously but he unconsciously leans forward. He’s smiling and leaning in so close that he almost kisses him when the door to Shiro’s office abruptly opens and slams into the with a rough bang.

“These damn doors, I told maintenance they need to be repaired week ago and- oh.”

Shiro quickly gets to his feet and clears his throat.

“Iverson,” Shiro greets the new arrival, hoping that his voice doesn’t shake with the odd sensation he’s just been caught out doing something he shouldn’t be. And they weren’t really. They weren’t even touching each other, although the heated look in his husband’s eye suddenly gives Shiro a whole new appreciation for the term _eye-fuck._

Still perched on the desk, Keith doesn’t bother to move.

“Shirogane.” Iverson’s tone is curt but rimmed with surprise. His good eye narrows to a slit and his nostrils flare slightly in surprise when his gaze lands on Keith. “Forgive me, I wasn’t aware you had a visitor.”

Shiro has to fight back the urge to nudge Keith off his desk when it becomes clear Keith has no intention of standing up. A pseudo military man such as Iverson wouldn’t be at all comfortable with Keith’s casual elegance and utter disregard in this strict environment and Shiro can’t decide if he’s annoyed by his husband’s easy display of defiance, or if he’s grudgingly impressed that even a gruff, decorated officer such as Commander Iverson isn’t enough to put the fear of god into him.

Then again, Keith was raised by Kolivan. 

Shiro clears his throat slightly and straightens his spine a little more, as though subconsciously compensating for Keith.

Keith snorts slightly under his breath. 

“This my husband,” Shiro tells Iverson. There’s a warm inflection that comes through in his voice when he says it, enough that the tips of Keith’s ears immediately go red. Shiro has to bite back his grin at the sight. “Keith, allow me to introduce you to Commander Iverson.”

“Hey,” Keith replies with a lazy two-fingered salute of his hand.

It’s the second time in less than a minute that Iverson’s nostrils flare and Shiro gets the sudden mental image of a bull that has just seen a flash of red in the distance. Iverson’s eye narrows further and his lip twists into something almost angry.

Shiro tries to catch Keith’s eye but Keith frowns at him with feigned confusion.

The little shit. He knows exactly what Shiro is trying to tell him. Shiro grits his teeth and Keith hides his laugh behind his hands, all while Iverson bores his gaze with increased intensity into Keith.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Iverson eventually demands, his voice rough.

Keith glances briefly at Shiro then turns back to Iverson and shrugs lazily. “I don’t think so.”

“Hmph.” Iverson rakes his eyes over Keith once more, and Keith’s lips twitch enough that Shiro knows there’s a smirk building. Shiro is too busy trying to telepathically communicate with his husband to realise what Iverson grips in his hand.

The commander approaches and holds out a folder. The galaxy garrison’s logo is stamped on the front and Shiro immediately freezes in place, fingers of ice around his throat.

Too late he realises the shit storm that’s about to go down. The words are out of Iverson’s mouth before Shiro can think to react and his world falls out from under him.

“Have you made your decision regarding your reinstatement yet? Commander Shirogane has quite a ring to it.”

The smirk disappears abruptly from Keith’s face and his eyes flick to Shiro.

Fuck.

_Fuck!_

“Not yet,” Shiro manages to choke out, his tongue suddenly too big for his mouth. It’s the wrong answer but he needs Iverson out of his office _now_. He needs him gone before the words fall too hard and burrow themselves in behind Keith’s eyes but as the shutter falls, Shiro knows it’s too late.

It’s too late and he’s fucked up. 

Iverson grunts, unaware of the cracks beginning to fissure between them. “Well, don’t keep us waiting too long. You don’t want to miss the next shuttle to Luna base.”

Without another word, Iverson turns on his heel, tucks his hands behind his back and walks out without a backwards glance at the devastation left behind.

As though he didn’t just drop a grenade in the middle of Shiro’s marriage.

The door to the office is still open on the tail of Iverson’s departure but Shiro doesn’t think to close it before he reaches out for Keith’s wrist, curling his fingers around the fine bone there in an effort to anchor him. To stop him from bolting.

“It’s not what you think,” he says softly but his stomach plummets and everything else dies in his throat when Keith pulls his hand away. Shiro doesn’t try to hold him and the slide of Keith’s wrist slipping through his fingers feels too ominous to think about.

Keith brushes an imaginary piece of lint off the material of his jeans. “So, Luna base, huh?”

 _This is wrong,_ Shiro’s instincts scream at him. Keith is too calm, too quiet - maybe it’s just him. Maybe it’s just that the thunder of his heart beat is too loud and violent he can’t hear anything else over the rush.

He opens his mouth to speak, but Keith beats him to it. 

“I gotta get back to work,” he says abruptly, sliding off the desk and taking a step back towards the door. He has his hands shoved into his pockets deeply and his head hangs low, letting the now loose strands of hair fall forward to shade his eyes.

Shiro wants to stop him and it’s on the tip of his tongue to beg _Keith, please, let me explain_ but he recognises a retreat when he sees one. Keith isn’t ready to listen and besides, his office door is still open, there are cadets milling around in the hall. He has class in five minutes and there’s too much to unpack, too much damage he needs to mitigate and _fucking damn it,_ this is what he wanted to avoid.

He feels cold and a little empty, like Keith’s eyes when he finally raises them. It’s a punch to the gut, it’s like losing a limb all over again because no. _No_. He can’t lose Keith over this. 

“Keith,” he tries again, but he’s startled by Keith grabbing his hand and tugging him down for a quick, hard kiss and it’s all he can do not to melt into it. He tells himself Keith wouldn’t kiss him if he hated him. He wouldn’t kiss him if he was going to walk away from what they have over this but he’s still so cold inside he’s not sure he can trust himself to believe it.

“I’ll see you at home,” Keith tells him when he steps back and his voice is as raw as Shiro has ever heard it.

He’s gone before Shiro has a chance to call him back.

\--

Keith fights the urge to turn his rushed stride through the garrison halls into a run. He fights the urge to find the nearest empty room and lose the contents of his stomach too. Instead, he swallows it down, ignores the two short blips of his phone, vibrating with the notification of incoming messages against his thigh and keeps walking, shaky hands shoved deep into his jeans. He keeps his head down and his jaw locked tight and prays that no one knows who he is.

He’s aware of a sea of orange and white and shiny black boots as he passes the cadets as he retraces his steps back to the flight training centre’s lobby and the welcoming anonymity of his bike helmet. He needs to get away from this place, from the ever-present shadow it casts over him and his life and the people he cares about, only for him to realise he may never escape it.

More cadets pass him, and a few officers too as he rolls out of the car park and onto the drag that will take him off the base, their faces young and fresh and lit with the possibilities of touching the stars and forging a life that couldn’t be found on this planet alone. And they would have to leave behind their friends and families and all the people that loved them to do it.

Keith’s bike wobbles ever so lightly under him, the unwilling jerk of his hands echoing his tumultuous thoughts forcing him to gun it until he’s cleared garrison owned land and he can pull over on the roadside, wrenching off his helmet and bending over, his hands clasped on his knees and sucking in great big dirty lungfuls of air.  It’s dusty out here, the air thick with fumes from the jets that slide through the cloud cover, the land flat and sparse for miles all around. In the far distance, back towards the way he came, he can see the towering spire of a launch site, a shuttle already waiting in dock, its nose pointed to the heavens and ready to take its crew into the darkness of space.

It should be an awe-inspiring sight but it’s not. It’s ugly and foreboding and menacing in all its implications.

Was he going to have to sit back and watch while Shiro was on one of those shuttles?

The memory hits him like a sledgehammer, knocking the wind from his chest. He has the sudden, visceral recollection of being seven years old and being taken to a launch by Kolivan and Antok, forced to watch with some silent horror chewing at his insides as Thace launched and three years had passed before his favourite uncle had welcomed him back into his open arms.

And when he did, he was like a stranger. Thin, quiet, so much weaker than the vibrant man that had left years before. Keith hadn’t known it at the time, but Thace had returned with the radiation poisoning already in his body. Already nibbling away at him and stealing the life he could have had.

A year after that, Antok had been gone on his own mission, another two years in rotation on Ceres and, in the months, following his funeral, Keith lain in bed with clenched fists and told himself if he had _known,_ if he’d had any idea, he would have begged Antok to stay, to not get on that shuttle that final time.

Keith dry retches into the dirt, nothing more than a hacking cough through the tears building in his eyes.

Was that going to happen to Shiro? Was he going to have to sit through another launch and watch as another person he loved get carried to the heavens, to be away for years at a time? Not just an uncle, or a friend but _his husband_ , the person he was supposed to be building a life with, side by side not split by space and time.

A few cars pass on the road behind him, thankfully not bothering to slow or stop to see if he needs assistance. In this moment, he’s grateful for humanity’s general apathy. He doesn’t want to have to explain why he’s heaving in the dust or why it feels horribly like his heart might be starting to fissure or why his throat aches with the painful realisation that he’s been a fool to ever think the garrison would relinquish their hold on a talent like Takashi Shirogane, even as they turned their back on him with one face, only to scratch him closer with another.

Keith wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket and rummages around under the seat for a bottle of water and takes a long swallow. The cool water sliding over his tongue seems to anchor him, and he closes his eyes against the sunlight as he tilts his head up to drink.

The churning of his gut starts to ease, leaving behind something that feels cold and sort of numb and it takes him a moment of staring hard into the distance at the launch site until the shuttle starts to waver on the horizon under the heat. It’s hot out here today. Hot with the angry sun and distant rolling dark clouds signalling a storm building and when sweat beads and pools against the base of his neck and trickles under his shirt he doesn’t feel it.

He shoves the empty water bottle back under the seat, wipes his brow and climbs back onto his bike. His hands are steadier now and he eases back onto the road to merge with the light traffic on the highways and he rides towards the Careflight base rather than the townhouse.

He can’t face the townhouse, not just yet. It hurts too much and later on, Keith will wonder if he hadn’t been so tired, if he hadn’t been so distracted and lost in his own misery, then maybe he could have swerved in time. Maybe he could have avoided the nondescript black sedan that jutted it’s nose out so abruptly instead of slamming into it and sailing over its hood to land with a sickening crunch and slide against the asphalt.

Maybe.


	57. a feeling i thought was set in stone (it slips through my fingers)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> current status: rocking in the corner because holy shit that was one of the roughest things I've ever had to write
> 
> all i can say is... please trust me! please trust where this is going...a
> 
> Also this chapter was originally supposed to have Shiro pov too but it was just... TOO MUCH™ so that's why I've opted to split it up.
> 
> [ moodboard ](https://sheithmafsau.tumblr.com/post/178242445946/ch-57-moodboard)

It’s a disconcerting experience to be the patient, Keith discovers.

He blacks out from the pain and wakes to the familiar wail of a siren and a crowd around him, soft voices he doesn’t recognize and the stomach-churning jolt as he’s lifted into an ambulance rig. They give him something he tells himself he should know the name of but he can’t seem to find it through the haze behind his eyes. He can’t seem to focus on anything and he lets his eyes droop shut again.

It’s hours now since he’d been shuffled through the emergency departments, sent for scans, pumped full of pain relief, strapped and finally ensconced in a private room on a ward courtesy of an upgrade in his health cover that he’s not entirely sure comes from his ties to Careflight or from being added to his husband’s insurance and frankly, he’s too tired and sore and irritated to ask.

The storm that had been threatening to build all day hit not long ago and now the rain pelts down outside, splashing droplets on the window that catch the glow of the street lights below. It’s a nice room as far as hospitals go, dressed up with pale birch panelling and a comfortable looking chair in one corner to feel homey but it doesn’t matter how warm they try to make it, it’s never going to be home.

He's not alone at least. Trigel stands over him, arms folded across her chest and lips pursed. The concern is so bright in her eyes it makes him want to look away. It seems faintly ridiculous that his supervisor was here in the room with him, as though he was on deaths door and not just cranky and sore and kind of mortified over all the fuss but Trigel had always been one to go above and beyond for her team.

At his feet on the end of the bed, Lance perches with one knee pulled up and frown lines so deep around his mouth that Keith feels a momentary flash of guilt for making his best friend worry. Lance catches Keith’s eye and glares.

“Death. Trap.”

Keith huffs weakly and wishes he had the energy to kick him harder than the feeble nudge he manages with his foot.

“Shut up, Lance,” he mumbles.

It’s the veiled mention of his bike that has Keith feeling a stab of dismay.  No doubt the damage would be awful, ugly grooves peeling away the glossy red paint, shattered plastic, probably a crumpled front wheel and god knows what else.

It’s easier to think about the smashed bike than to think about the events that led up to it being that way.

He leans back against the raised-up bed with a sigh, ignoring the wince of pain and wondering if maybe he shouldn’t have been such a hero to knock back the most recent offer of pain relief from the nurses. He doesn’t like how they make him feel, his head is fuzzy enough with the dual pains behind his eyes and in his chest warring for dominance. He can’t seem to catch his thoughts, they won’t stay in one place longer enough for him to examine them, too busy disappearing like smoke.

He’s lucky, they’d told him. The medics in the ambulance rig he didn’t recognize, the emergency room doctors, the techs taking his scans and the nurses on the ward. All things considered, he’d come off fucking lucky in that showdown between him and the car that appeared so suddenly out of nowhere. A dislocated shoulder, a hyperextended knee, a concussion and a litany of scrapes and bruises that he was told warranted an overnight stay in the hospital, something that Keith had no intention on indulging them in.

There had been a murmur too, that the car that caused the accident hadn’t hung around, apparently blazing into the distance with burning tyres before the first witness at the scene had thought to dial triple zero.

At least he knew the other party wasn’t hurt if they were still able to drive, he supposes. He wonders how long he has to wait until he can get the hell out of here then realises with dismay he’s probably going to have to beg Lance for a lift home.

He hadn’t wanted to go to the townhouse when he rode away from the garrison, now it’s the only place he wants to be. Even if Shiro won’t be there.

Shiro.

Keith’s stomach drops when it all comes flooding back, like a scratchy record that’s stuck in a loop. He hears that Commander’s gravelly voice over and over again.

_Commander Shirogane. Luna Base._

Each time, his stomach clenches and his teeth grit. It’s all he can do not to push the sheets off his legs and get up. It’s fine, he knows what comes next.

He can do this on his own. He’s always been independent and although the brief interlude of marriage and having someone to lean on had been nice, it obviously wasn’t going to last.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Lance demands when Keith shifts on the bed, shoving back the thin hospital issue coverlet and gingerly swinging a leg down. One pale bare limb dangles over the edge and he wonders what the hell happened to his clothes, only to experience the dim sway of a memory, of them being cut off before being stuck in the ambulance.

His left knee looks swollen now, and he knows it’s gonna hurt like a bitch when the meds wear off. Probably before then, if he tries to walk on it.

“Keith, don’t even think about it,” Trigel warns him and it’s the tired sound of her voice that makes him pause more than her words.

Or maybe it’s just the sudden roar of blood on the insides of his temple and the way darkness seems to want to crowd the edges of his vision.

Fuck.

Lance hops up to grab his ankle and shoves his leg back onto the bed. He’s not particularly gentle about it and he sends Keith a dirty look when Keith grimaces at the rough treatment.

“You deserve it for trying to be a hero. You’re not, by the way. You’re just another idiot on a bike.”

Keith opens his mouth to sneer back, only to wilt pathetically under the troubled look Lance gives him.

“I hope you didn’t bother Shiro with all this,” Keith mutters then and it surprises him how weak his voice sounds. How it trembles when it curls around the syllables of his husband’s name. Just saying it makes his chest hurt. It’s kind of hurt the meds can’t protect against.

Trigel lifts an eyebrow at him at the comment but before she can answer, a shadowed figure stands in the doorway.

“And what if I want to be bothered?”

Keith doesn’t need the light to wash over his face when he enters the room to know who it is. He would know the sweep of those shoulders anywhere and at the sound of that voice, Keith’s heart leaps inside his chest, slamming and fluttering against his ribs like a moth to a light. The overwhelming blend of longing and relief and dread washes over him with such force it makes the breath hitch in his lungs.

Longing to curl against Shiro’s chest, relief that Shiro had come but dread too, because he didn’t want Shiro to worry.

Or worse, feel _obligated_.

Just that insidious thought alone makes him want to retch over the bed. He doesn’t though. He just sits still in place, drinking in the sight of his husband as though it was the first time he’d seen him in months.

And Shiro…. Shiro looks anxious despite the calmness of his tone. His clothes, that dull grey uniform that Keith is starting to hate so much, hangs half open at his chest as though he’s started to pull it off but got distracted halfway. It exposes the white shirt he wears underneath, soft and pristine in spite of the creases where he’s shoved his sleeves up to his elbows. His hair sticks up at odd angles and Keith guesses he’s probably run his hands through it more than once on the drive over.

“Shiro,” Keith whispers.

“Hey Shiro,” Lance says in greeting. He steps aside to let Shiro through.

“Hi Lance,” Shiro says quietly, ever the gentleman. He gives Lance a small, grateful smile before he turns to Trigel and holds out a wide palm. She presses hers to his in a brief handshake. “You must be Trigel. It’s good to put a face to a voice finally, although I really wish it didn’t have to be at my husband’s hospital bedside.”

Trigel’s answering smile is rueful. “It’s nice to finally meet you face to face too, Shiro. Hopefully this will be the last time we will have to see each other like this.”

“Here’s hoping,” Shiro smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

With the polite greetings out of the way for the others, Shiro now turns his attention to his husband. To Keith and only Keith and Keith swallows thickly under the weight of it. He can’t quite read the expression in Shiro’s eyes. It’s guarded in a way he’s never seen before, and it’s apologetic and sad and all the things Keith doesn’t want it to be.

But Shiro steps closer, capturing Keith’s jaw gently and brushing a metallic thumb over his cheek in one soft sweep before he takes it away. Keith is frozen in place. He can’t move but his eyes drift shut when Shiro leans in to brush a light kiss on his forehead.

“Hi, baby,” Shiro murmurs against his ear. Keith’s eyes immediately prick and there’s a sudden quiver to his chin he has to swallow thickly around to get under control.

It takes a moment to find his voice.

“Hi,” he finally manages to whisper back with dry lips and rapidly pricking eyes.

“Took a bit of a spill, huh?”

Something about the bland way Shiro says it makes him want to laugh and cry all at once. “That’s one way to put it.”

Shiro sits on the edge of the bed and gently lays his hand on Keith’s thigh, but the touch is awkward. For the first time Keith wonders if maybe wasn’t just his bike that was the only thing damaged.

“Well,” Lance announces brightly into the strained silence that’s started to build. “Now that the cavalry’s here, I think it’s time to blow this popsicle stand, boss.” He spares a moment to walk over to pat Keith’s ankle under the thin hospital issue blanket. “Take it easy, mullet. I’ll check in on you later.”

Keith frowns at him. “I won’t be here later.”

“I know that, idiot.” Lance shakes his head, his smile rueful. “I’ll see you at home. See you, Shiro.”

“Bye, Lance. And thank you,” Shiro calls out after him. Trigel shifts uneasily too, snagging Keith’s attention as Lance walks to the door. She unfolds her arms long enough to pat his hand, even though it’s now curled tightly in Shiro’s.

“Don’t let him do too much,” she says pointedly to Shiro. “He’s going to recover quickly but he’ll be sore for a few days. He’s also got a concussion so make sure he gets some rest. He’s no doubt going to want to discharge himself as soon as I leave-“ Keith lets out a muffled protest but Trigel ignores him. “-but I know Allura and Lance will by later to keep a close eye on him.”

Lance, still hovering in the doorway, snaps off a quick and mocking salute at the mention of his name.

“Noted,” Shiro says quietly and Keith can’t even find the energy to voice his complaint over the conversation going on around him. “I’ll take care of him.”

Keith closes his eyes at the sound of those words. In Shiro’s voice, they sound like a promise but Keith knows he can take care of himself. His spine stiffens, or at least he thinks it does. Right now, his head and his body feel strangely disconnected thanks to the power of the drugs in his system.

“And Keith,” Trigel waits until he turns his foggy gaze to her. “Don’t even think about coming into work until you’re ready. A week off at least.”

He doesn’t have it in him to argue.

Trigel and Lance leave just as Thace and Kolivan arrive. His uncles are solid men and suddenly the hospital room feels that much smaller with their presence.

“I’ve been to this hospital twice in the past two days and neither time was for me,” Thace rumbles at his bedside. He leans over to search Keith’s face, his deep amber hued eyes filled with thinly veiled worry. His voice turns soft. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Keith mumbles and he has to tear his gaze away. Thace standing over him like this suddenly makes him feel like he’s ten years old again and sick in bed with the flu. He doesn’t like how it makes him feel small.

Thace searches his face silently for a moment more before leaning back.

“Ezor was just down the hall. If the two of you had co-ordinated better, perhaps you could have shared a room.”

It takes Keith a long moment to wade through the fugue in his mind before he realises Thace is joking.

He grumbles something wordless in protest at his uncle’s questionable humour, but he slides a second look at his uncle. Even through the fog in his thoughts, it registers clearly that Thace looks good today. There’s no sickly pallor to his skin and he’s moving with ease and confidence.

Too much confidence, Keith thinks when he promptly leans over and attempts to fluff Keith’s pillow. Shiro chuckles at the motion even as Keith protests weakly.

“Ugh,” he whines. “Will you quit that?”

Thace gives him a chiding look. “You haven’t let anyone look after you since you were twelve years old. Let an old man have this.”

Keith grumbles again then he sneaks a look at his other uncle, standing back with a face as cool and as impassive as ever. Keith knows him well enough to read the glint of relief in his eye though.

Kolivan inclines his head in a small nod. “I’m glad you’re mostly unharmed, Keith.”

Keith curls his lip and drops his gaze to eye the sling that holds his arm. “Mostly.”

“Could have been a lot worse,” Thace comments. The smile slips a little from his face and he glances at Shiro. “Regris tells me they are treating it as a hit and run.”

Keith doesn’t need to look at Shiro to know there’s a frown on his face. Keith had felt him stiffen instantly at the words. He huffs impatiently.

“Shit happens,” Keith says before Shiro has a chance to speak. It does. He’s attended to enough accidents that he knows sometimes people panic. Occasionally they bolt. “They probably just freaked out.”

Three pairs of eyes narrow as he says it and inwardly he sighs. He can see Kolivan’s lips purse and the tension rises higher in Shiro’s frame. It makes him want pull away in irritation.

Except he can’t because he’s too sore.

“Look, I feel kind of shitty. Can I just go home?”

“You want to leave?” Kolivan asks in surprise.

“Yes.” Keith is getting annoyed now. The air in the room feels suffocating and thin. “I want to go home and sleep for ten thousand years. If one more person tries to ask me how I’m feeling or jab me with something I might punch them.”

“Well, his temper is still intact at least,” Thace comments idly to Shiro over his head. Keith snaps his head around to glare at his husband, or he tries to. He can only manage a slow turn on account of aching, protesting muscles.

“Don’t you say anything,” he gripes.

“Me?” Shiro coughs lightly into his hand but his lips twitch enough that Keith can feel a growl building at the back of his throat. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I suppose this is the part in your marriage when you discover what a terrible patient he is,” Thace says to Shiro. Then he winks. He _winks._ “He gets that from his Kolivan as you probably guessed.”

Keith and Kolivan suddenly wear matching frowns.

“We should go,” Kolivan rumbles in low tones a short time later once they’ve extracted their complete assurances that Keith isn’t in any immediate danger. He follows it up by laying a big hand on Thace’s shoulder. “We know Keith is in good hands with Shiro.”

“That we do,” Thace agrees, then he’s leaning over to offer Keith a brief and loose hug before they say their final goodbyes. They walk out and then Keith is left in an awkward silence with his husband.

A silence falls over the room. They’re alone for now, but not really.

They’re not, because the looming spectre of the garrison is in there with them, a hulking, shadowy presence that he can’t ignore as much as he desperately wants to.

“Do you really want to go home, baby?” Shiro asks him softly after a moment. His tone is so measured, so calm. Painfully polite.

Keith doesn’t hesitate in his answer. If his days with his husband are numbered, then he’s not going to waste them here. “Yes.”

“Okay,” Shiro murmurs, his gaze flicking to the contraption on the back of Keith’s hand. “Let me get the nurse.”

“Don’t bother,” Keith tells him and he plucks at the dressing over his hand with shaky fingers, stripping it off and slipping out the cannula before Shiro can open his mouth to protest. A small spot of red blooms on his skin but Keith wipes it away quickly.

When Keith looks up, Shiro’s expression is inscrutable.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Shiro shakes his head. He looks like he’s trying to hold himself together and Keith feels a wave of something that feels like guilt roll over him. It sticks to him, clings to his skin like the stench of blood. Shiro runs a hand through his hair and it just makes it stick up even wilder. “I just… I never want to get a call from your boss like that again.”

“Sorry,” Keith mumbles and it’s inadequate and feeble like so much else. Shiro’s expression doesn’t change.

“Are… Are you okay to walk?” he asks.

Keith nods once and slides off the bed cautiously. He’s weak but he’s stable enough to move under his own steam.

But fuck. He hurts. On the inside, on the outside. All over.

His arm has been set in a sling to support his injured shoulder and the reduced mobility makes dressing in the loose track pants and t-shirt that Shiro had brought him difficult. He refuses Shiro’s first offer of help then scowls in frustration when he can’t manage it alone. Shiro takes the shirt from him gently and offers him a small smile.

“Here,” he says softly. “You’re looking at an expert at one armed dressing right here.”

 _“Fuck,”_ Keith gasps, immediately stricken. There’s no hiding the sudden dampness that floods his cheeks. “Shiro, I-“

Shiro responds instantly, pulling him into his chest, mindful of his injuries and supporting him with a metal band around his waist. “Baby, shh, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I was teasing. I’m sorry.”

Keith shudders into his shirt. He squeezes his eyes shut against the garrison grey.

“Your humour sucks,” he manages to ground out and Shiro strokes a warm hand down his back apologetically.

“Sorry, baby, just wanted to lighten the mood.”

Shiro strokes him again, a gentle touch that has him hiccupping roughly. It’s a struggle to swallow back his tears and he tells himself it’s just the drugs and the left-over adrenaline in his system from the accident that’s making him act like this. Not the fear, not the resigned notion that Shiro is going to leave him.

He also tells himself he’s not a liar.

A short time later, Shiro goes to the counter to organise the early discharge. They sign some paperwork Keith barely looks at then Shiro leads him down the halls and towards the lifts. Each step is dogged by nausea and the sting every time he puts weight on his swollen knee.

Shiro asks him three times if he wants a wheelchair or crutches, or _hell, just let me carry you_ , but each time Keith stubbornly refuses.

He doesn’t need it. He’s strong. He’s _strong_ and he can do this on his own. He’s going to have to when Shiro leaves, isn’t he?

He catches sight of his reflection as they pass through the hospital lobby and into the night. His helmet saved him from any direct contact with the road but there are smudges under his eyes and his hair is a wild mess. His face is pinched and pale, a haunted look in his gaze that he knows isn’t entirely due to the accident and the shirt he wears makes him look surprisingly thin and small. Has he lost weight since the wedding? He didn’t think so, until he realises a split second later he’s wearing one of Shiro’s.

Shiro catches him looking at the shirt hanging off his chest. “It’s mine,” he says apologetically. “I didn’t want to waste time stopping in at home so I just grabbed my gym spares from the car. Hope that was okay.”

Oh. That explains it.

“It’s cool,” Keith answers tiredly. A small part of him wants to wrap the shirt tighter around him and never take it off.

It’s a relief when he finally sees the black sports car’s familiar sleek lines, even more so when Shiro pauses beside him at the door, solicitously opening it and helping him into the seat with gentle hands. He doesn’t say a word as he buckles Keith in but he brushes his knuckles down the side of Keith’s cheek gently and stares at him with all the unspoken love in his eyes Keith wants to memorize and tuck away in his heart forever.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, baby.”

Keith struggles to answer. His throat is dry. “Me too.”

Shiro shuts the door and moves around to the driver’s side. He starts the engine and pulls out of into the street.

Keith dozes in the car.

“You look pale,” Shiro says quietly when they get home. “Can I get you anything?”

_Yes. You. Forever._

Keith’s heartbeat grows loud in his ears.

It’s the medication, he tells himself. It’s just the left-over adrenaline from the accident and the pain. That’s all it is. He curls his fingers tightly around the staircase railing and focuses on the woodgrain of the stairs under his feet. The townhouse is so quiet, not even the soft jingle of the bell that Black wears on his collar to disturb the silence.

Somehow it feels wrong.

“Just… tired. I want to get some sleep,” he says instead.

“Okay,” Shiro says softly and then his expression shifts, the downturn of his lips gets deeper and harsher and Keith can see the way he’s suddenly steeling himself and reaching out a hand.  “Keith-“

“Not now,” he croaks out, cutting Shiro off. His voice is a hoarse whisper. “I can’t do this now.”

Shiro’s lips tighten into a line but he doesn’t push it. “Can you make it up the stairs on your own? Maybe I should-“

“I’m fine,” Keith snaps with a little more heat than he means to. He’s feeling the cracks and wishes he didn’t. Maybe he’ll pull something out of his kit, something to take him into oblivion so he doesn’t have to think about what his future is going to look like without Shiro in it.

Shiro doesn’t follow him and he drags himself up the stairs, limping one foot in front of the other and gritting against the pain.

The lamp is already on in the bedroom when he stumbles in, washing its soft glow over everything. The sheets on the bed are rumpled still, a tangled mess because they’d been so caught up in each other they hadn’t had time to straighten it before they’d both had to rush out the door for work.

Keith’s chest aches.

Was that only this morning? Is that why Shiro was so light and happy in the shower? Because of garrison taking him back? Because he was going to go?

_Oh, god. Oh, fuck._

Keith all but sags onto the bed, weak at the knees under the realisation _why_ Shiro was so happy. So happy over something that was going to take him so far away from Keith. So far away from what they had. And it’s selfish, Keith knows it is, he knows it’s selfish to be feeling this aching sense of loss and fear when he should be proud and glad for his husband. And he is, there’s a small part of him that’s fiercely proud but it’s not loud enough to drown out the fear yet.

Sleep. He needs sleep but when he slides into the sheets, nausea rolling in his stomach, he wonders if he should have got a bucket, wonders if it’s because of the accident or because his heart hurts so fucking much.

He must doze because it only feels like a short time later when Shiro’s hand is warm between his shoulder blades, gently rousting him from sleep.

Shiro’s voice is subdued. “Keith, Colleen brought over some soup for you if you feel up to it.”

The thought of food, even just soup makes his stomach roll. “I.. I don’t think I can.”

“Okay,” Shiro says softly. If he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it. He presses a kiss to Keith’s hair before he gets up to take the tray back downstairs.

Keith dozes again and he comes to under the scent of something floral that reminds him of passionfruit blooms and summers by the beach. There are cool fingers on his brow and when he opens his eyes, Allura is there hovering at his side.

She offers him a small smile.

“Just checking in,” she says softly and Keith is dimly aware of her closing up her kit. She touches him again, but it’s not an examination, just comfort. “You scared us. I’m so glad you’re okay, Keith.”

“Thanks, Ally,” he murmurs back.

“Need anything?” she asks and he doesn’t need her clarify. He feels slightly woozy and tired as fuck, but the pain is manageable for now.

“I’m okay.”

“Good,” she says affectionately and it strikes him how beautiful she is. Not just on the outside, if she wasn’t up to her armpits in blood and trauma, she could have been walking the catwalks. Allura’s beauty comes from somewhere deep inside. You couldn’t help but be in awe of it.

It’s a lot like how Keith thinks about Shiro’s beauty too and the thought of his husband makes his throat ache again.

“He’s downstairs with Lance,” Allura tells him, recognizing the shift in his eyes. There’s a rueful smile on her lips. “I don’t think even Shiro can hold Lance at bay for much longer though. Mind if I send him up?”

It’s too weak to be classed as a chuckle but Keith makes a noise that might be close to it. Allura smiles at him again, gives his hand a squeeze and then collects her kit.

She’s gone for less than five seconds before Lance pops his head into the room.

“Hey, man. Got you some of those weird paperbacks you like. You’re not supposed to do much for tonight but for tomorrow, if you need something to occupy you.” Lance holds up a small collection of books in his hands. They look worn and well-loved with tattered edges. Just the kind Keith likes.

He walks over to place them on Keith’s beside table but he pauses just before they make contact with the woodgrain surface.

“Tomorrow, okay,” he says firmly, lifting an eyebrow and fully intending to extract a promise before he hands over the goods.

“Got it,” Keith grunts. Like he could focus long enough to read a novel right now anyway.

His gaze traces the cracked titles on the spines without meaning to though and the titles surprise him; _When the World Shook_ , _Dune,_ _A Clockwork Orange_. There’s no way Lance would have chosen these books by himself.

“Have you been talking to Thace?” he asks, his brow furrowed.

He wants to reach for one of the books, not to read, but to run his fingertips comfortingly over the words that could carry him away on adventures far beyond the scope of his simple life. Thace had always been the one to encourage his voracious reading when he was younger, the wilder the tale, the better. He even went as far as to sneak him a torch so he could continue to read under the covers even when the rest of the household was asleep.

“Thace is cool,” Lance shrugs. “It’s Kolivan that I’m pretty sure wants to murder me in my sleep.”

Keith’s lips twitch in spite of himself. “It’s because you’re so loud.”

“Ouch,” Lance says, placing a dramatic hand against his chest but the laughter in his voice is unmistakable. “I come bearing gifts and this is the thanks I get?”

Keith grunts again and attempts to shift into a more comfortable position but it’s useless and even just that small exertion makes him feel woozy enough that he’s glad he’s already lying down.

Lance isn’t ready to leave yet. He’s off duty now and in his staple casual wear of jeans and a blue raglan shirt. Keith hopes he’s taken his shoes off but judging by the silent way he pads around the room he has. He eyes the bed with hands on his hips then points to Shiro’s side.

“Is it safe?”

Keith frowns at him. “What?”

“Is it safe?” Lance repeats. “I spend enough of my days dealing with various bodily fluids, I don’t need to be rolling in any more during my time off.“

It takes a second to realise what Lance means. Keith would flip him off rudely if he had the energy.

“Asshole,” Keith mutters weakly instead. “Also, gross.”

Lance raises an imperious eyebrow. “That wasn’t exactly an answer.”

Keith narrows his eyes at him. At least he still has the liveliness to do that, although it’s a stretch. “We fucked in the shower this morning,” he grits out, hoping to go for shock value. It would serve Lance to have to wear a little TMI since he since he asked in the first place. “So you’re good.”

Lance wrinkles his nose then shrugs unfazed.  He settles himself on the bed next to Keith. He’s careful about it though, lying back and placing his arms behind his head and staring up at the ceiling without jostling Keith too much.

God, they haven’t done this for a long time, not since Lance officially hooked up with Allura a couple of years ago. It reminds him of their rookie year, when they hadn’t quite mastered the balance of not taking every tragic call out home with them. When they’d drink themselves stupid until they didn’t have to think about the heartbreak out there anymore. Or at least until they suited up and did it all over again the next day and the day after that.

“Comfy,” Lance comments after a quiet minute. “Shiro has good taste.”

“Well, obviously.”

Lance snickers. “Not you, mullet. You’re an anomaly. You’re the stray he brought home from the pound. You know, the mutt in the corner that growls at everyone but that’s all soft and fluffy and desperate for belly rubs on the inside? I just helped facilitate the adoption.”

“What the fuck,” Keith mutters and something in his chest hurts more than it should at Lance’s words even though he knows Lance is joking. He knows Lance is just trying to rile him up, but Keith half wonders if there’s a kernel of truth there. Then he inwardly curses himself and tells himself to stop being pathetic. “Did you just come in here to insult me?”

“That wasn’t an insult. I called you soft and fluffy.”

“You called me a mutt,” Keith grumbles weakly and Lance pulls his hand out from behind his head to wave it vaguely at the ceiling.

“Eh,” he says dismissively.

A companionable silence settles in around them and sleep tugs with greedy fingers at Keith again. He doesn’t want to slip away yet. Lance’s presence is undemanding, strangely comforting despite their bickering but then that’s the way it’s always been. Lance is good at knowing just where Keith’s line of tolerance resides at. He might poke at it, occasionally dip a toe over it, but he knows never to cross it completely. He supposes that’s why their friendship has endured so well when Keith had been apathetic enough let so many others flounder.

Sometimes he wonders what’s in it for Lance though.

“Woof,” he whispers roughly into the silence and it’s gratifying when Lance makes a surprised noise that’s half a snort then peels into laughter hard enough to make the bed quiver. Despite the pain and the aches and weight on his heart, Keith finds himself grinning weakly alongside him.

Lance gives him a gentle nudge. “Really glad you’re okay, man.”

The next time he wakes, the sky is black. Keith’s not sure how long has passed but he’s in enough pain that he needs to roust himself to the edge of the bed with the intention to dig up more pain relief. Before he can move or utter a word, Shiro is there at his side in an instant, the welcomed pills lying like two tiny moons on black texture of his bionic palm. He also holds an opened bottle of water in his other hand that Keith accepts greedily.

“Thanks,” Keith murmurs without meeting his eye.

He downs the pills one at a time and chugs half the bottle, immediately regretting it when his stomach rolls with unpleasantness but it passes before he places the bottle down on the bedside table.

He has to half squint in the brightness despite the lamp being on its lowest setting when he looks up. “What time is it?”

“Just after ten,” Shiro answers. He hovers by the bed with a shuttered look and tight shoulders. He’s in his sleep clothes now, just a plain black t-shirt that hugs his shoulders and loose grey shorts. He looks tired and a little reserved. “I can sleep on the couch if you want.”

It takes a moment for the implication to sink in and when the clawed hand around his heart squeezes hard enough, Keith experiences a blast of panic.

“No,” Keith shakes his head vehemently – a mistake because now his head hurts more and the nausea flares again. “No,” he croaks out again, because somehow that separation is too much to bear and Keith trembles at the thought of it. Jesus, he’s so weak.

Shiro immediately lowers himself down to Keith side until they’re sitting side by side. He reaches for Keith’s uninjured hand and gently shuffles, turning in to draw their foreheads together with his other hand.

“Keith,” he murmurs and Keith suddenly finds himself missing the copious softly uttered _baby_ Shiro had used at the hospital. They were special, those. Soft endearments reserved just for him.

Keith wants to press closer but Shiro seems content to hold him at a distance. Gently, tenderly, as though he’s something fragile that might shatter at any given moment. Sometimes he feels that way, but he doesn’t care if he shatters, not if it means falling into Shiro.

He knows what’s filling the space between them though. He knows what they need to talk about and he struggles vainly to pull together the strength inside him, the strength to sit and listen as Shiro relates to him in detail about the garrison and the promotion and how he’s going to be leaving soon.

This is a new kind of vulnerability Keith experiences now, heaped on top of every emotion that’s cracked through him over the last few weeks. He’s felt raw before, but not like this. Not quite like this, as though he’s been stripped down to his very bones. Not like his heart is breaking and he’s already mourning the loss of what they could have had.

He tries to tell himself he’s happy for his husband, that Shiro will be able to go where the garrison wants him, that he gets to regain everything he thought he’d lost all those years ago. It would be hard to watch him board that shuttle, harder still to watch it leave but Keith would survive it. He would survive it because to ask Shiro to stay could never be an option, because he refuses to give life to the resentment that would surely grow. Shiro not fulfilling his dream on account of Keith? God, it would be poison in their marriage, a slow, painful death drawn out over years. They would both suffer for it.

The realisation stares him in the face in all it’s heartbreaking glory – Shiro gets on that shuttle, and he’ll be gone possibly for years at a time…  or he stays and bitterness breeds until all he sees when he looks at Keith will be all the dreams he could have had.

Either way, Keith loses him.

Keith squeezes his eyes shut, unwilling to let the tears fall but unable to prevent the hacking sob that suddenly falls out of his chest. His breathing gets tight, he can’t get enough air and he wants to run only to find his body won’t obey him, his limbs feel too heavy with fatigue and there’s an undercurrent of weakness and pain that slithers through his entire soul. 

It hurts. It hurts so much.

He’s not sure if he may have said it out loud, but Shiro is suddenly cupping his face tenderly, so close that Keith can taste his warm breath. There’s a brokenly whispered _I love you_ that Keith isn’t sure if it fell from him or his husband, only to realise it doesn’t matter anyway.

“Keith,” Shiro breaths his name out like it’s something precious. Like it’s not something that will steal something important to him. “I’m not going to go back to the garrison. I’m going to tell them no-“

Of all the things Keith had expected Shiro to say, this was so far from what he’d prepared himself for he can’t help the jolting physical recoil. He leans away, every inch of his skin vibrating with bewilderment.

“What?” Keith demands. He wants to shake his head but a flash of pain quickly stops him from trying. “Shiro, you can’t.”

 Shiro stares at him with furrowed brows over deep grey eyes. There’s surprise on his face too. Surprise, and some confusion.

“Keith, I have to.”

And the way he says it… Oh, god. He sounds heartbroken in a way that makes Keith want to rip out his own heart. He gasps once, chest aching then he hunches over to shove the heels of his hands to his face. Stars of colour burst behind his eyes and pain blooms in his shoulder and his back and across his very heart but fuck it, _fuck it,_ it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as this.

“Keith,” Shiro reaches for his hands then, cool fingers curling over his. There’s the soft clink of their wedding bands coming together and the sound is mocking in Keith’s ears. Mocking and cruel and it only makes him press the heels of his palms in harder.

Shiro sounds alarmed now. “Keith, it’s okay, I’m not going to do it. I’m not, okay. I’m not going to leave you-”

Keith shudders. He hates himself for what comes next. He knows he’s going to regret it, he knows it’s going to hurt more than anything else ever has, he knows it going to taste like ashes in his mouth.

He drops his hands and raises his head. He knows his eyes are red rimmed and he blinks once in an effort to dispel the moisture pooling there. He digs down deep, drawing out everything he holds in his heart to give him the strength he needs to do this.

“You should go,” he whispers.

Shiro immediately goes still as stone. “Excuse me?”

“To space,” Keith clarifies roughly in case Shiro thinks he means just leaving the room. He allows his voice to grow stronger with conviction when an image forms behind his eye of Shiro walking towards the shuttle, the wind whipping through his hair, his face calm and confident and ready to face whatever lies out there. “You should go. It’s what you’ve always wanted. Luna base, then wherever else. Ganymede. Kerberos.”

A beat of silence.

“Keith, I’d be gone for _years.”_

Keith swallows. His head hurts and he feels strangely resigned. It would be okay. He’ll survive. And this way, Shiro won’t leave him because he despises him, he’ll leave because he loves something else more.

“I’d… I’d still be here when you got back,” Keith says with false bravado. He closes his eyes against the tears. He means it. He means it with every fibre of his being. Shiro is all he wants, he’ll wait forever if he has to.

“Keith,” Shiro sighs and he sounds so deeply troubled that Keith struggles to breathe. “That’s not what you signed on for.”

Something about that statement sends the blood surging in his veins. His temper flares. Without thinking, he draws back, inserting the space between them that he needs. Shiro can’t turn his back on the life he could have had before the prototype crash. Keith won’t let him.

He won’t let Shiro throw away his dream for _him._

It’s a struggle to make his body cooperate but Keith pulls himself up to his feet and disengaging from Shiro’s touch completely. He misses his warmth instantly but ignores the loss and wills his unsteady limbs into rigidity. He’s strong, he knows this. He’ll survive like he always has. He can be left behind.

It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?

He draws a breath and his fists clench at his sides. He ignores the surprised and wary expression on his husband’s face.

“Shiro, you’ve wanted to go to the stars all your life. You’ve known me for what, a month?”

Keith tries to laugh derisively. It’s ludicrous really. That Keith could ever match up to Shiro’s long time aspirations. Shiro would go on, get on the shuttle, live out the life he was always supposed to and Keith would just be a small blip in the pages of his autobiography.

And that was okay. Keith would be okay, because Shiro would be _happy._

“Don’t do that,” Shiro says, his voice rough. He pins Keith with a look that strips everything away to his bare bones. Like he can see every thought process that flickers behind Keith’s eyes. “Don’t diminish what we have, what we’re building here.”

Keith latches onto the anger simmering behind his breastbone, draws it close and wraps it around him like armour. His eyes spark.

“You’re stupid if you don’t go.”

There’s no mistaking the flash of fury in Shiro’s eyes and something about it makes Keith feel vindicated. Good, because he’s hurting and spoiling for a fight and Shiro is the closest target and he doesn’t stop to think about _why_.

Shiro’s tone is a little too cool to ignore. “Stupid, huh?”

“Yes.”

Keith juts out his chin in challenge, willing Shiro to rise to the bait. He holds it for all of a second before the throbbing behind his eyes becomes so violent his vision almost goes dark. He tries to say more but the world abruptly tilts around him and then Shiro is there, warm and strong to steady him before he falls too far.

The worry on Shiro’s face makes the fight fades out of him, just a slow dwindle of heat until he’s left cold and empty with nothing but the taste of fear on his tongue.

“Damnit, Keith,” Shiro says it softly, sadly. Heartbroken. “I love you, I won’t give up on you. I won’t give up on _us.”_

 _No,_ Keith thinks, confusion beating the words around in his skull. He can’t stop trembling. _No, you’re supposed to fight me. You’re supposed to make me hate you so it won’t hurt so much when you leave_ , but Shiro’s hands are in his hair, touching his cheek, smoothing over the bruised lines of his limbs. Keith is sure he whimpers.

Keith doesn’t have it in him to protest when Shiro lays him back on the sheets with all the care and gentleness he’s not sure he deserves. Shiro sighs. “This isn’t the right time to talk about this. We’re both too worked up and you need to rest.”  
  
Shiro hovers over him, close enough that Keith can see the dark flecks tucked in amongst the deep grey of his eyes and the dusky pink of the scar across his nose. His fingers itch to trace it.

“Don’t go, okay,” Keith whispers as a drugged sleep rushes to claim him. “Don’t go.” 


	58. compass of my heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m… I’m rage posting this. 
> 
> I’ve written and rewritten this chapter so many times, from both povs and I cried multiple times and I’m still not completely satisfied but I just need to move on from it now because it’s sapping too much energy and bringing me down when the whole idea of this fic was to cheer myself up sooooo… while it may not be satisfying to everyone (and if it’s not, I apologise), I’ve written it the way I personally needed it to play out in order to move on (there is more that will come out in later chapter). Here goes nothing…

On his seventh rotation around the sun, Takashi Shirogane was pulled from class and shuffled off to the principal’s office. It was a nice office, warm tones and rows of books that lined three walls, reaching from floor to ceiling. He didn’t know why he was there, not at first, not until the principal took his hand and held it in her own. He remembered those hands being dry and papery, mottled with age. And small. They were small, not much bigger than his own.

She told him his parents were gone and he wrinkled his brow in confusion. _Yes, of course they’re gone,_ he said. _They’re in space. Mars._

She looked at him sadly. _Oh, Takashi._

It took him no longer than a moment to understand.

His grandfather came to collect him, standing tall in his galaxy garrison grey uniform, a plethora of medals pinned to his chest, gold bars across his shoulders. His grandfather didn’t cry, so he told himself he wouldn’t either.

At the memorial they dressed him in a black suit. The shirt was too tight around his neck. Too tight, too scratchy. It was hard to breathe in the sea of faces he didn’t recognize. There was a plaque on the wall, shiny and new and a candle that flickered and jerked from the breath from a room full people.

And flowers. There were so many flowers and solemn faces but there were no bodies to bury.

It was his seventh rotation around the sun and even he understood that.

Afterwards, he stood at his grandfather’s side. He had been tired but he didn’t bow. He didn’t break. He prided himself on standing tall, shoulders thrust back, face impassive. Just like his grandfather was. Just like his parents in the photos on the stands by the podium.

 _Brave. You’re so brave, Takashi,_ they told him after it was over. Strangers patted his shoulder sympathetically as they passed. Faces he didn’t know. A sea of grey and orange.

On this eighteenth rotation around the sun, there was another loss. His grandfather, and the entire crew of the Pioneer. A bad angle on re-entry, the rockets didn’t fire. A horrible, senseless waste. A tragedy. 

A burst of light, a crackle of static and another part of his world was gone.

During his twenty second rotation, the prototype jet he was flying crashed down with his surrogate father and best friend also onboard. He was pulled from the wreckage amidst cracks of thunder, a violent storm raged, rain on his skin. Rivers of red on crushed silver.

And pain. So much pain.

Then months later, rows of hard eyes on him as he stood alone in front of officers that outranked his parents and even his grandfather. The sleeve of his uniform was pinned on one side, and a sense of shame clung to his skin like tar but he still stood tall, shoulders thrust back, face impassive.

No one told him he was brave then.

Another rotation carried him around the sun. Another rotation he struggled to realign his purpose. Then away from the judgemental eyes of the garrison, in a shed behind his mother’s house, Hunk stood holding the advanced prosthetic to his chest. His big brown eyes were wide with sorrow. He was scared, but determined too.

 _It might kill you,_ Hunk said.

Shiro stared at it and hope beat wildly in his chest. It wasn’t a choice. It’s was never a choice.

_It might save me too._

Another rotation, another turn around the sun and he can’t escape the memory of his former life. There’s nowhere else he thinks to go so he lives in its shadow.

Another rotation, and another. A life only half lived.

On his twenty-ninth rotation around the sun, Takashi Shirogane fell in love with a dark-haired man.

On his twenty-ninth rotation around the sun, Takashi Shirogane comes back to life.

 

* * *

 

Shiro comes awake slowly.

The final threads of the dream fade away like an imaginary caress over his cheek. It leaves him unsettled, as though he’s been caught too long in the world dreams are made in and reality, one foot on each side straddling the divide. It’s an effort to force himself to blink, to draw himself back. A part of him doesn’t want to. A part of him wants to linger, to hold onto the sound of his father’s voice, to revel in the curve of his mother’s smile and bathe in his grandfather’s pride.

God, he hasn’t had a dream like that in years.

The pain of it leaves him breathless, tears pricking behind his eyes at the sheer, unsurmountable loss it makes him feel. A loss he’d worked so hard to package up neatly and tuck away somewhere deep, always there, always contained. Never dwelled on.

How different would his life had been if they’d lived? If the garrison hadn’t stolen away everything that they were in the pursuit of something greater? Would he still be following their footsteps, still with the garrison, still following the path they’d laid out for him. Maybe the prototype might still have gone down, maybe it might not.

He probably wouldn’t have Keith. He probably wouldn’t have taken such a gamble, such a monumental risk, searching so hard to find some kind of purpose in his life he was willing to sign it away to science. Because that’s what it was he had done, wasn’t it? Tired of sitting on the sidelines watching the cadets he’d trained and helped cultivate take to the skies while he stayed groundside, living vicariously through them while he worked through his own healing, clinging to some semblance of the person, the life he was before he lost his arm, before the crash.

He’d wanted something more. He wanted to _be_ something more, so he’d turned away from the heavens and looked somewhere else.

And then, there it was. Suddenly his old life was dangled in front of him once again like some sort of carrot, only he hadn’t been sure that was what he even wanted anymore.

So, he’d hesitated and held it inside himself and now he might lose what he had never realised he needed so badly.

On some level, Shiro had known it wouldn’t go well.

On some level, he knew that Keith would react strongly to the garrison’s offer but even in his wildest imaginings, Shiro hadn’t expected it to go like this. To have Keith hear it first from Iverson and disappear before Shiro had a chance to school his thoughts and talk to him. To have Keith in their bed with him now, injured and weak and half out of it on powerful pain medications with names he could barely pronounce.

And on some level, he so desperately wanted the world to just stop for a second, to let him catch his breath, to let him pick his heart back off the floor and to beg his husband to forgive him for fucking up so monumentally, because the garrison’s offer aside, Shiro shouldn’t have stalled as long as he did and now he can’t take it back.

If only he’d known Keith was going to surprise him at work, if only he’d known Iverson was about to show up, he could have set it all right then.

He likes to tell himself that. He’s not sure if he believes it.

Beside him in the darkness, Keith’s breath hitches once then he sighs, long and deep before he shifts and a tiny sound that might be a whimper falls from him. It’s not a sound Shiro ever thought he would hear from Keith. Not his beautiful, fierce and independent husband. It makes him seem small and vulnerable and when another tiny sound falls from his lips, it’s all Shiro can do not to roll over and gather him close.

He doesn’t though, he’s almost too scared to touch him, too scared to wake him, too scared to brush against the bruises blooming on his skin, or against the swell of his shoulder where it had come loose from its socket. Keith doesn’t usually sleep on his back but the injuries he sustained from the motorbike accident make it difficult for him to sleep in any other position. The bed quivers with the compression of the springs as Keith shifts feebly, trying to make himself comfortable.

“Keith?”

He whispers it so quietly it’s hardly a sound at all and he holds his breath in the hope there won’t be a response. He hopes the drugs they had given Keith at the hospital are strong enough to let him sleep through the night. Strong enough to keep any nightmares away.

There’s no answer save for a deeper sigh and Keith’s breathing becomes even and measured once more. Still asleep. Still healing.

It’s selfish to experience the rush of relief. Relief because Shiro isn’t sure how he’s going to be able to look Keith in the eye come morning and see a replay of that anguished expression he’d worn just a few hours ago.

He never wants to see that expression ever again. He never wants to get that sickening call that had sent the blood roaring in his ears so loud it had made him stagger and forced him to slam a metallic hand down against his desk just to steady himself.

_God, Keith. Please, not Keith._

It had taken Trigel multiple attempts to assure him that Keith was _fine,_ that he was _okay_.

Her assurances didn’t stop him from walking out in the middle of a class though, leaving a room full of bewildered cadets behind. It didn’t stop him from tearing down the highway and climbing the stairs at the hospital two at a time because the goddamn lift was taking too long. It didn’t stop him from rushing into the ward on quaking legs only to have to force himself to stop just outside the door to Keith’s room to tell himself to _breathe,_ to take a second, to _get his shit together_ because he wouldn’t be any use to Keith if he fell apart. 

It had taken a palm pressed flat against the cool wall to steady himself, to beat down the dread and fear because _God_ , the thought of losing the best thing in his life made everything inside him teeter so close to the edge he was sure he was dangerously on the verge of losing it in the way he hadn’t in years.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

The roaring in his ears finally settled and inside the room, he hears the murmur of familiar voices. One of them is Keith’s and he latches onto the sound of his husband’s voice. He let it wash over him and his heart squeezed painfully in his chest. Then Keith had turned to him on the bed, in a pale blue hospital gown, face wan and jaw set mutinously. He was lovely in his temper, but he was okay.

_He’s okay. He’s okay._

Shiro reminds himself of this as Keith slumbers beside him. Keith is okay, and Shiro has a chance to set things right.

 

* * *

 

When Keith opens his eyes in the morning, it takes him a few moments longer than it should to trace the source of his pain. He sits up slowly, testing how his aching limbs move, testing the balance of his stomach, and the state of the headache lurking in his temples.

He’s sore, but it’s bearable so he pushes away the sheets and slides his feet to the floor. There’s a gentle thump as they land on the carpet. The curtain billows softly with the breeze from the balcony.

The other side of the bed is empty, save for the dark shape that is Black curled up near Shiro’s pillow. The cat raises his head and blinks at Keith with drowsy golden eyes and Keith reaches out to give him a scratch under his chin. 

“Keeping me company again, huh?”

Black immediately starts to purr, stretching out his neck to allow Keith a better scratch and Keith indulges in letting his fingers rub against the cat’s soft fur for a moment longer before he wonders if he can drag himself to the bathroom without having to call for help.

He really doesn’t want to have to call for help, not with the memory of yesterday’s bombshell still hanging over his head and the words he’d flung at his husband in response.

“Keith, you’re up.”

He’s only taken a single step before Shiro is there, sliding his bionic arm around Keith’s waist securely and pulling him close. As grateful as he is that Shiro is there, Keith has to bite back his grunt of discomfort. He’s sure his side from his shoulder to his knee is an ugly mass of bruises, tender to touch under the soft cotton shirt he wears. Shiro’s shirt. He’s probably going to end up wearing them a lot more while Shiro is away.

The thought makes his throat ache. 

“How are you feeling?” Shiro asks when he’s settled into his support.

“Oh, you know,” he grunts. “I’ve had better days.”

Their bedroom isn’t huge but the space between their bed and the ensuite has never felt so wide. Keith has to bite back a whimper as a wave of pain rolls over his shoulder. Fuck, but at least it’s better than dwelling on the pain inside his chest where his heart is supposed to be.

“I’m sure you have.”

There’s a whisper of a smile in Shiro’s voice that seems to chip away at Keith’s ache, at the defences he’d hadn’t realises he was already unconsciously gathering. Anyone else he would have shoved them away, figured out his own way to where he needed to get to but he can’t summon the energy to do that with Shiro. He can’t find the strength to pull up a shield around himself, not when Shiro can slip past so effortlessly anyway. What would be the point? Better to save his energy for other things.

Like the conversation they’re going to have to no doubt rehash now that his head is clearer, even if his muscles ache.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Shiro murmurs and Keith soon finds himself leaning against his husband’s chest weakly while the water runs over their skin and the steam curls around them in the shower. He hurts, but it’s the kind of hurt there’s no defence against and when Shiro draws him closer, Keith shuts his eyes and listens to the steady thump of Shiro’s heartbeat against his ear.

“Thank you,” he manages to whisper, because at least he still has this.

Shiro hums into his hair, a wordless tune that Keith doesn’t recognize but that steals inside him anyway. Shiro strokes a wide palm over his back and it takes everything Keith has not to melt into that embrace until he’s not sure where his body ends and Shiro’s begins. It’s been too easy to let down his guard these last few weeks, to slip into the comfort Shiro offers him. To come home after a long, exhausting shift and know that Shiro’s smile would be waiting for him.

It’s a struggle to dress again, but he doesn’t refuse Shiro’s offer to help this time. He doesn’t refuse when Shiro helps him down the stairs either. He won’t say it out loud but he can’t bear the thought of spending the day in their bedroom with nothing to look at but the painting he’d chosen that day on the mountain, the one that looks so much like a star scape. A few days ago, they’d eventually settled on hanging it on the wall opposite to the bed because Shiro liked the idea of being able to lie back against the pillows and look at it.

Keith hadn’t minded. He liked sprawling against Shiro’s chest while Shiro admired the swirling patterns on the canvas. Liked that it was something as new as he was in Shiro’s space. Something that belonged to the both of them.

But now… now he’s not so sure. Why had he chosen _that_ particular artwork?

Had he known on some subconscious level? Had he picked that one because he liked it, or because he knew it was what Shiro wanted the most? He’s not even sure anymore. He just knows he doesn’t want to look at it, he doesn’t want to be reminded that their time is limited.

His blunt nails dig in a little too tight against the metal of Shiro’s arm as they making their way down the stairs, one awkward, painful step after another but if Shiro notices, he doesn’t breathe a word.

In the lounge, Black wanders by, his tail curling around their legs as he passes and it takes Keith almost everything he has to force himself to unhook his hands from Shiro’s shirt long enough to sink onto the couch. 

There’s a lot he knows they need to discuss but he’s not ready for it.

And judging by the shadowed look in his husband’s eye, Shiro isn’t either.

 

* * *

 

The doorbell chimes before Shiro can think of a way to break the strained atmosphere between them and he’s part way thankful because he’s fast realising that _I’m sorry_ isn’t enough to bridge the chasm he’s put there between them.

Not even close.

“How is he?” Allura asks as she enters. Her long silver locks have been bundled up into a neat bun at the back of her head and she’s effortlessly professional in her black slacks and crisp white shirt. She looks ready for business, which make sense considering she already has her stethoscope hanging around her shoulders and her kit in her hand.

In contrast, Lance trails in after her, hands shoved into the pockets of his khaki jacket and shoulders hunched. His hair is in disarray and he has smudges under his eyes as dark as bruises.

“Okay, I suppose,” Shiro shrugs. “Stubborn.”

It’s not a lie and he knows he doesn’t need to elaborate more than that when she gives him a tight, knowing smile. Shiro had kept his thoughts to himself when Keith had taken the water from him and left the pills on the nightstand before they had come downstairs.

“I’ll talk to him,” Allura says and she gives him a quick squeeze against his bicep before she trots off to her patient. Keith has his injured leg propped on the coffee table and he’s nursing the arm that connects to his sore shoulder. Even though he’s pale with discomfort, Keith still manages to force a shy smile for Allura when she perches at his side and draws over her kit.

“He’s being a pain in the ass, huh?” Lance comments on the backend of a yawn. He rubs his neck absently and blinks a few times as though trying to keep himself awake.

“He didn’t take the pills this morning but he’s a lot more alert today. He must be in pain though.”

“Keith’s tough. He’s going to be okay.”

Shiro smiles in spite of himself at that. “Yeah, he is.” 

Tough. Stubborn. Beautiful. _The best thing in my life._

“Hey, are you going somewhere?” Lance asks him curiously, flicking his eye up and down Shiro’s form. Shiro left his garrison uniform in the walk-in robe this morning. He has no intention of putting it back on any time soon.

He spares a quick glance down at his jeans and pale grey shirt. “Yeah, there’s something I need to take care of. I won’t be gone for long, maybe two or three hours at the most.”

Something shifts in Lance’s expression. “Huh. This wouldn’t have anything to do with what Hunk is cooking up, would it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Hunk’s pulling the pin on his garrison contract. I surprised he didn’t tell you.”

“I knew he planned to eventually-“

“He said he’s jumping ship. That a lot of his team are too. He... he’s not happy with what he’s working on. Or something. I dunno, I tuned out after he started getting technical.”

Shiro cocks his head. He hasn’t had a chance to speak to Hunk directly since before Keith’s visit to his office but he knows he would have heard about Keith’s accident from Lance or Pidge. He knew Hunk had been increasingly dissatisfied with what the garrison had him working on but he hadn’t realised it was coming to a head like this.

He needs to talk to Hunk.  And to Iverson.

“You don’t mind staying?” he asks Lance hopefully, already rummaging in his pocket for his keys. If he can get to the garrison and Iverson before classes start, he might be able to avoid too much attention.

“Sure, no sweat. I was planning to hang around anyway,” Lance shrugs. Then he raises his voice so that his voice carries into the lounge. “We can watch a movie or two.”

Keith looks up at Lance’s comment and his dark brows snap together in irritation. His gaze flicks between Shiro and Lance. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Yeah? And how else are you gonna get to the bathroom or get a snack or whatever on that bung leg, idiot?” Lance demands, hands on his hips. 

Keith glowers at him from his spot on the couch. Allura packs up her kit.

“I’ll be fine.”.

“Pfft, stop trying to be such a hero.”

“You know, your bedside manner kinda sucks,” Keith informs him frostily.

“Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me for a few hours so suck it up, sunshine.”

Keith’s gaze flickers to Shiro before he turns it away. The shadowed look makes a finger of unease slide against his spine and Shiro wonders if he’s making the right decision, or if by leaving right now it will just another misguided decision in a row of bad decisions lately.

Allura manages to badger Keith into accepting some pain relief and she leaves with strict instructions to Lance not to rile Keith up too much. Lance looks like he’s about to argue for the space of a heartbeat before he relents and wanders into the kitchen under the pretence of getting snacks.

“It’s eight in the morning,” Keith grumbles. “I don’t want snacks.”

“How about breakfast then? Please tell me you’ve had more than just a sugar laden coffee for breakfast today.”

Keith stares at his hands and huffs. “I’m not hungry.”

Lance makes a ludicrous noise like a buzzer.

“Bzzzz! Wrong answer! Shiro, where are your pans? I’m going to make this loser some food.”

“Cupboard to your left,” Shiro tells him and Lance starts to bang away in the kitchen loud enough that Shiro knows he’s actually trying to offer them some modicum of privacy.

“Will you be okay with Lance for a few hours?” Shiro takes a seat gingerly beside his husband on the couch and places a hand on Keith’s thigh. Keith’s muscles twitch under his palm, the tension there is unmistakable.

Shiro refuses to pull his hand away, leaving it resting just above Keith’s knee and rubbing gently with his thumb. Keith’s not the only one who knows how to be stubborn, and Shiro isn’t going to let Keith push him away. Not like this.

A heartbeat passes and Keith’s tension eases, like he’s too weak to hold onto it.

“If I stab him, it’s his own fault,” he finally mutters darkly.

“I’ll make sure I put the steak knives away somewhere safe before I leave then,” Shiro says seriously and there’s the faintest twitch of Keith’s lips before they turn downwards again.

“I won’t be gone long,” Shiro tries to assure him. “There’s just a few things I need to take care of. I kind of rushed out yesterday.”

Keith’s gaze shutters away. “Sorry,” he says dully.

“Baby,” Shiro sighs. He’s frustrated with himself. They’ve hardly spoken this morning but the words from the night before still ring loudly through his mind. “I would do the same thing a hundred times over. You’re the most important thing in my life, you know, that right?”

Keith gives him a look that’s guarded enough to make Shiro think that no, he doesn’t know that and wow, that hurts.

But it’s also his own fault.

“Keith, about yesterday, what happened in my office - I’m so sorry you had to find out that way. That… That wasn’t how I was planning to talk to you about it.”

Keith’s shoulders instantly stiffen. His adam’s apple bobs once when he swallows.

There’s a bang from the kitchen and a mutter from Lance that reminds Shiro that he needs to let it go for now. He doesn’t want to. This situation makes him helpless in a way he hasn’t in years. He doesn’t know how to navigate these newly turbulent waters of their marriage. This conflict between them, this upset – it’s new. It’s painful and their foundation is still tremulous enough that Shiro is terrified that it might not withstand the impact. He feels a lot like he’s drowning.

But he loves his man. He loves his husband more than anything else in on this planet and beyond.

“Hey,” he tries again, swallowing thickly around a lump in his throat when it takes Keith a long time to meet his gaze. “I love you. I have a few things to take care of, then I’ll be back and I’m all yours.”

He tries not to take it to heart when Keith doesn’t answer.

 

* * *

 

Shiro leaves through the internal stairs, heading down to the garage and then Keith listens to the low rumble of his car and the vibration of the garage door closing. He might hurt like fuck today but at least his thoughts are the clearest they’ve been since he walked onto the garrison base the day before.

Lance shuffles back into the room with a bottle of water and a handful of pills, both of which Keith ignores.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he grumbles once again as he tries to reach for his phone on the coffee table. As luck would have it, it’s just beyond his reach and Lance gives him a very droll look when he finally picks it up and hands it to him. 

“Sure you don’t. But I bet you could use a friend.”

It’s hard to argue with that so Keith doesn’t try. Lance takes up residence on the couch beside him but he’s careful about it. He brings up the TV’s menu system and scrolls through the channel options.

“Want to watch a movie or do you want to talk about it?”

Keith’s eyes narrow with suspicion. “What, you’re not going to give me another lecture about my flaming death trap?”

Lance snorts. “Yeah, like you’d listen to me anyway,” he says dryly. His lips twitch in a rueful grin that has Keith’s answering in kind.

“It’s a write off, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Sorry man-” Lance says apologetically before he cuts himself off with an over dramatic scowl. “No, wait, no I’m not. Good riddance to that thing. If we don’t ever get another call like that again it will be too soon.”

Keith laughs in spite of himself. “Don’t make me laugh, jerk,” he winces as pain laces across his shoulders. “Hurts.”

Lance grins at him, completely unrepentant but then the grin slips and fades. His eyes turn serious and Keith feels the thump of his heartrate picking up behind his chest. He knows Lance is about to bring up the one thing he’s tried not to let himself think about too hard when it comes to the accident.

“Trigel said cops are trying to track down the driver, but there’s no plates. You don’t think…”

“What?” he asks warily.

“You don’t think it’s anything to do with what Ezor is mixed up in, do you?”

It’s doubtful, Keith tries to tell himself. For the most part, he’s kept his nose out of what she’s mixed up in and the last he’d heard from Kolivan’s old squad mate Regris in the police force, she wasn’t even talking. If it was connected, he couldn’t really see how. 

“It was just the wrong place at the wrong time,” he tries to sound confident. Reassuring. He’s not sure who’s he’s trying to convince most though. “You know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Lance echoes with a dull tone.

How many times had they seen it? Horror accidents that could have be avoided if only there had been a few seconds either way. Sometimes bad shit happened. Sometimes there wasn’t any rhyme or reason to it, it just was.

Lance finally decides on a movie and his choice turns out to be the same one that Shiro had picked on their honeymoon. The familiar strains of the music and the clashing sounds of the robots are comforting even if the plot is ridiculous.

He snorts derisively three quarters of the way through when one of the characters in the movie tries to sidle up to the alien princess.

“That guy is so lame,” Lance mutters as he hunkers down further into the couch. “As if she’d fall for that. And he’s _purple-“_

“He’s a space prince.”

“Pfftt,” Lance sticks his thumb out and tips it downwards. “No way, she should totally end up with that other guy. He seems like fun.”

“Nah, he talks too much.”

“No way, he’s the cool ninja, sharpshooter. Right hand man, he’s perfect for an alien princess.”

“If you say so.”

“I do, man. I do.”

Keith tries to remember the end of the movie, only to remember he’d slept through most of it, drooling into Shiro’s shirt while the rain fell outside the bungalow.

The memory makes a fresh stab of pain bloom inside his chest. Everything had been so easy then, even if it didn’t feel like it at the time. Trying not to let himself fall too hard too fast, only to realise he was already on his way down.

He didn’t expect it to be like this, but then there were no such things as happy endings were there.

“So,” Lance starts casually as the credits start to roll. “You wanna tell me what’s going on with you and Shiro?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb. Every time I’ve seen the two of you together it’s been sunshine and rainbows and love hearts and you get this soft, gooey look in your eye-“

“I do not,” Keith mutters in protest but Lance ignores him.

“-and Shiro’s not much better, that guy looks at you like you’re the sun and stars. Did you have a fight?”

Keith bites back a retort at Lance’s words and stares at the threads on the cushion under his hand. One of them has come loose, probably thanks to Black’s claws but it’s hard to notice amongst the other threads. Not enough to worry about really, not enough to warrant replacing. Because you just don’t go throwing stuff out because of a small imperfection, right?

Keith tries to sift through the fog in his memory to piece together the words of the night before, of the day before. A fight would indicate they were on opposing sides and he’s not sure they are. Shiro was offered the chance to go back to the garrison, to be promoted, and Keith told him he should go. Was that a fight?

Lance nudges him, his eyes serious. A little worried too. “Is everything okay?”

For a fleeting moment, Keith considers keeping it all to himself, after all, their friends would find out eventually anyway but the weight that sits on his chest is too much. The weight of his thoughts is too much. He still feels jumbled, like he’s wading through mud and no matter how far he pushes, he just can’t quite seem to grasp the other side. Not without help.

He leans back his head and closes his eyes briefly, digging deep in an attempt to find a strength he’s not entirely sure he has.

“The garrison wants Shiro back. They’re going to promote him then send him to Luna base. Maybe even further.”

There’s a beat of silence then Lance lets out a low whistle. His voice is troubled and full of surprise. “Shit, man. That’s… uh.”

“Yeah,” Keith laughs weakly. Bitterly. He hates that it sounds that way.

“Is he going to go? He doesn’t have to accept it does he? I kind of got the impression he was looking for something new.”

Keith turns to Lance to find his friend staring at him with wary expression. It doesn’t look right on his face. It doesn’t feel right either. Keith feels weirdly like they’re having two different conversations and he can’t follow either of them but then everything feels kind of muted behind the pain. He can’t grasp what he needs.

But Shiro… Shiro can have what’s long been beyond his reach.

“The garrison is his life,” Keith says slowly, articulating the words with exaggerated patience. Lance knows as well as Keith does how the galaxy garrison has shaped Shiro’s life. He’s spent enough time with Shiro now, spent enough time listening to Keith talk about him. He shouldn’t need it explained to him how important the opportunity to follow his dream is to Shiro.

Lance squints at him, unperturbed. “Are you sure about that? Because I’m not.”

He asks the question so mildly it makes Keith irritated that Lance can’t see the sheer obviousness behind it. How is it even a question at all? Shiro was literally garrison born and bred. He’d already be up there if it hadn’t been for the crash. Of course, he’s crazy not to take the opportunity if it’s given to him.

“Of course, it is.”

“What did he say exactly?”

Shiro’s voice sounds in his mind. _I’m not going to go back to the garrison. I’m going to tell them no._

“He said he’s going to tell them no, but I can’t let him do that.”

“You can’t _let_ him? What are you? His keeper?”

“I’m not going to be the reason why he misses out on his dream. He has to go.”

“He doesn’t have to do anything. He loves you, you guys are _married_ , it’s not like you’re just casually dating or something. You made a commitment to each other and if he goes back to the garrison it would mean you wouldn’t see each other for years at a time. I don’t know what Shiro was like before that crash but why would he want to go back to an organization that tried to tear apart his reputation like they did? Hunk told me about his arm too, how Shiro had to be discharged before he could get it because the garrison wouldn’t let him have it. How they had to go black market to make it happen.”

“You don’t get it,” Keith says stubbornly, even if what Lance says makes a small bell chime at the back of his brain. “It’s what he’s always wanted. He has to do it.”

“And you’re the one to decide this for him, huh?” Lance demands flatly.

“He has to go,” Keith says again, but somehow it lacks any strength. “If they want him back, he has to go.”

There’s a small sigh. 

“Sure, Jan,” Lance shrugs. “If you say so. You know him better than me.”

“Yeah,” Keith finds the energy somehow to glare at Lance. Something about his countenance right now is rubbing Keith the wrong way. Like Lance is holding a card that Keith doesn’t know about. “He is _my_ husband. I would know.”

Lance sighs and shakes his head.  “The only reason I’m not slapping you right now is because you had a concussion yesterday.”

“What?”

“Keith,” Lance frowns at him.  “I say this with the utmost love and care because you are my best friend but, holy shit, you’re an idiot sometimes.”

“Fuck you,” Keith mutters without any heat. Yeah, he was an idiot. An idiot for leaving himself open to this. For getting too attached. For not being strong enough to keep his shit together. 

“Dreams can change, Keith. Maybe you just need to give Shiro more credit that he knows what he wants.”

 

* * *

 

When Shiro gets back to the townhouse a few hours later, Lance is passed out on the rug, a pillow shoved under his head and a movie playing on the TV that Keith isn’t watching. Instead, he seems to be staring at the wall, Black in his lap and one hand trailing through the soft fur of the cat’s coat.

“I’m glad Black is at least looking after you,” he whispers, eyeing Lance’s softly snoring form on the floor. The rug is comfortable, but not that comfortable and he’s not sure if he should wake Lance and send him up to the spare room to sleep until he realises the bean bag in the corner won’t be much better. It might be time to stick a spare bed in there once again.  A real one, not just that ugly fold out futon that Pidge had been perfectly happy to use.

Keith gives him a small smile but it’s tight and it doesn’t reach his eyes. Shiro steps over Lance and sets himself down on the lounge beside him.

“He got called in again last night,” Keith mumbles. “Since the team is down a person now.”

There’s the faintest hint of sullenness in his tone that has Shiro reaching for him. He’s almost afraid to touch him, knowing he’s sore and fragile after the accident but he lays a hand against Keith’s nape gently.

“That’s not your fault,” Shiro tells him. He tries to ignore the voice that slides out of the dark corner of his mind and whispers _but it might be yours._ “You couldn’t have predicted you’d get hurt.”

Keith doesn’t answer straight away but the downward curl of his lips is back. Shiro rubs his thumb soothingly over his husband’s skin. “Do you need anything?”

“No.”

“What about him?” Shiro asks, resisting the urge to give Lance a nudge with his foot. “Should I wake him?”

Keith moves before Shiro can stop him, plucking up a cushion and flicking it deftly at Lance’s head with his uninjured side. Lance snuffles then comes awake with a groan.

“Damn it, Keith,” he grumbles, sitting up. Then he blinks blearily. “Oh, hey, Shiro. You’re back.”

“I am,” Shiro says with a small smile.

Lance yawns then stretches dramatically and there’s a few faint cracks of his spine as he exaggerates the stretch beyond what Shiro would have thought could be physically possible. 

Despite Shiro’s soft protest, Lance opts to head home to catch up on his sleep in his own bed. Shiro trails after him to the door.

“Thanks again, Lance. For hanging around. I was gone longer than I expected.”

Lance gives him a tired smirk. “No problem. But, you might need to sit him down and talk some sense into him.”

Shiro’s throat goes dry. He wonders what they talked about while he was gone. “I know,” he says softly. “I have some pretty big making up to do.”

“No,” Lance shakes his head. His customary smile isn’t there anymore and Shiro isn’t entirely sure if it’s the tiredness from his long hours stealing it, or something else. “It’s… look, he’s gonna try to push and push and push you away, that’s just Keith. He’s been like that for as long as I’ve known him. But you can’t let him, Shiro.”

“I won’t. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Lance does give him a smile then and then he’s gone with a wave and a skip down the stairs to where his shiny blue car is parked under the shade of a tree at the curb.

Suddenly Shiro is left alone with his husband and a whole lot of explaining to do.

Shit, where is he even going to start?

He closes the door and walks back to the couch. Keith looks restless and Shiro offers to help him shift into a different position.

“Have you eaten?” he asks. Have to start somewhere.

“A few hours ago. Lance made omelettes.”

“That explains the state of the kitchen then,” he forces a chuckle.

There are dishes stacked in the sink, a pan off to the side and a trail of fresh crumbs on the counter. It’s a haphazard, homely mess that previously would have made something itch unpleasantly against his skull and drive up the tension until his anxiety was flaring but somehow it doesn’t seem to hold the same power over him now. This townhouse has never felt more like a home since Keith had joined him here.

And that’s what it truly is now. A home. A sanctuary.

“Sorry,” Keith grimaces. “I’ll clean it up-“

Keith attempts to pull himself off the couch but he doesn’t get far before he sags then winces harshly.  “Shit.”

“It’s fine, sweetheart. I’ll do it.”

There’s a sharp inhalation of breath and Keith turns his head away. His eyes are closed, his face mostly hidden by a curtain of hair that falls forward over his face but there’s a roll of his shoulders that makes Shiro’s stomach sink.

“Keith?”

“I’m fine,” Keith says after a moment. His voice is shaky. “I’ll be fine.”

Keith insists on a change of scenery so Shiro helps him to the kitchen counter and settles him on one of the stools while he goes about setting the kitchen to right. It doesn’t take long, just a stack of the dishwasher and a wipe of the counters and he’s grateful for the chance to be busy. The distraction is enough to help him try to sort through the events of the morning. So many changes, so many emotions he’s struggling to sort through them all.

When he’s wiped the counter for the third time and the glass of water Keith had been nursing is empty, Shiro sighs inwardly and slides into the vacant stool at his husband’s side. 

“Are you sure you’re comfortable like this?”

“Yeah,” Keith shrugs. “It’s just my shoulder that hurts a little now. Maybe my knee, but I’m good.”

Shiro suspects he’s heavily downplaying his injuries but he knows Keith well enough not to push. Not when Keith’s like this. He’s quiet, but it’s an illusion. His fire is simmering just under his skin, close to the surface and Shiro doesn’t want to be the kindle that sets him alight. Not like this. Not in anger or frustration.

A faint tinkle from behind them steals their attention briefly. Black is curled up on the armrest of the couch now, head tucked on top of his paws and gold eyes hidden behind furry lids. The TV still plays but the volume is down so low that here’s not even background noise and Shiro swallows around the lump in his throat, because he knows that now… He can’t put this off any longer.

“Keith,” Shiro starts, surprised at how his own voice cracks even as it curves around his husband’s name. The swirl of guilt and emotion that he’s kept locked down until now starts to build inside his chest and his heart thuds painfully. “We should probably talk. About what you heard yesterday from Commander Iverson.”

The line of Keith’s shoulders grows tight. One arm is in a sling that Allura foisted on him, but his free hand he places flat onto the countertop. Shiro stares at it, aching to cover it with his own but sensing he can’t just yet.

“What’s there to talk about?” Keith says tiredly. “I meant what I said last night. You have the chance to follow your dream, you should go. You should take it.”

“It’s not that simple,” Shiro shakes his head. “Going back to the garrison… it would mean months, even _years_ of separation. And it will probably change a lot of things. We’d have had to move back to the base, I’d be sent away for training and missions and-“

“That stuff doesn’t matter,” Keith interrupts. There’s a flare to his voice that teeters close to cracking. “It’s your dream, you should do it.”

There’s a shift in Shiro’s chest, the edges of the things he knows, the things he’d considered as fact start to blur and shift. Things he’d based his decision on. Keith’s simple statement, thrown out with so much strength and conviction it was impossible to ignore, could have been a blessing if Shiro hadn’t already marched into Iverson’s office that morning and given him his answer in no uncertain terms.

The ground that he’d stood tall on seems abruptly shaky.

_That stuff doesn’t matter._

Did he misjudge this? Did he misjudge Keith, and what their commitment is? Is this Keith trying to push him away? Or is he just so firm in his belief that this is what Shiro wants? That Shiro could want to follow the thread of an old dream more than he wants to chase the shining tie that leads him to Keith?

It’s a good thing he’s already sitting down.

“Is it really that simple for you?” he asks quietly. He’s sure his voice sounds weak but if it does, Keith doesn’t comment on it.

“What's complicated about it?” Keith keeps his eyes averted and one arm snakes across his body in a distinctively defensive motion. “You have an opportunity to go to space. Why _wouldn’t_ you take it?”

“Are you saying you _want_ me to go?”

“I want you to be happy. If that means being Commander Shirogane and going up there, then that's what I want.”

“Is that the truth? Or is this your way of trying pushing me away?”

It turns out to be the wrong thing to say.

Keith releases a hiss between his teeth and his eyes flash with indigo fire. He’s been looking for a target and now he has one and Shiro thinks he should feel more like he needs to shield himself, except he doesn’t. If he’s fucked things up this badly between them then he deserves the hurt.

“Were you even going to tell me?” Keith rasps, his voice rough and jaggered. His hand on the counter closes into a fist and his knuckles go white. “Or was I just going to come home one day and you wouldn't be here?”

Because that's what Keith’s mother had done, wasn't it? He’d been three years old and abandoned. Someone who he should have been able to count on to love him and care for him unequivocally. Like a spouse should. Like a _husband_ should.

Just one day… gone.

Fuck.

Shiro tries not to think about how much that might hurt. He tries not to think about how that would rip against that trust. He tries to think of the right thing to say to draw Keith back to him.

“Keith, please believe me. I had every intention of talking to you about it. I was just… trying to find the right time.”

He doesn’t realise how pathetically feeble it sounds until the words fall from his lips.

Keith’s faintly mocking response tells him that he feels the same.

“The right time,” Keith shakes his head and he huffs coarsely, a sound that might have been a derisive laugh if he wasn’t so beaten down by his injuries. Then he raises his head and the question in his eyes makes them shimmer. “Were you afraid I was going to tell you not to go? To make you choose between me or the garrison?”

There’s no escaping the wound in those words. Shiro’s breath catches. It’s so far beyond anything Shiro could ever have thought it almost leaves him breathless.

_“No.”_

Shiro says it firmly, passionately. Determined to shut down any thread of that kind of thought. “No, I know you would never do that.”

Keith does let out a derisive laugh then. The bitterness in it stings far more than it should. “What makes you so sure? It’s only been a few weeks. You don’t even know me.”

The barb is sharp and hits it’s mark with far greater accuracy than Shiro could have predicted. This time it’s his hands that clench and he can feel the strain as the components click and shift in his arm as he curls his metal fingers.

After all the time they’ve spent together, the promises they’ve made to each other – he’s let Keith see every part of him. All his scars and his traumas and his open heart and his hopes and joy… he’d flayed himself open, given up everything. Shown everything –

He’d thought that Keith had done the same, until the rush of heat the flushes his cheeks settles… he realises what Keith is trying to do.

_Don’t let him push you away._

Shiro steels himself, draws in a breath and forces the rapid thump of his heart to settle.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s been a month or a year or a decade. I see you. I know who you are. I know who you are and I _love_ you.” 

Keith doesn’t respond save for a sharp inhalation of breath. There’s so much tension in his frame now it’s like he’s vibrating. Shiro wants to reach for him, to draw him close but he can still see the sparks under Keith’s skin, he can still see the clench of his hands and they don’t change and Shiro falters. He wants to reach for Keith’s hand but he’s suddenly frozen in place. His heart feels cast adrift, like a moon knocked from orbit with nothing but devastation left in its place.

Four hours ago, he’d been unshakable in his decision. He’d marched into Iverson’s office informing him that he’d be declining the offer. Informing him that he’d be leaving the garrison at the completion of his contract too. Iverson’s expression had been guarded, but not particularly surprised.

Commander Holt hadn’t been surprised either.

Pidge and Matt had sighed in relief.

It seemed everyone knew his decision before even he did.

Because honestly, what decision was there? He’d lose so much more than he’d gain. Months and months of training, the rotations up there going for months sometimes years at a time.  His life on hold.

He’d miss Keith. He’d miss their friends getting married, wedding anniversaries, birthdays, holidays.

Life.

He needs to stay on earth. With his family, with his life he’s forging with his husband. There’s a different path waiting for him. A different opportunity, but perhaps one that will make just as much of an impact.

“Keith,” he manages brokenly. His eyes prick at the way Keith’s hackles refuse to stand down. He knows Keith is still wary, he knows he’s still hurt and so he reaches out, using his human hand to curl over the top of Keith’s tightly closed fist. At the contact, Keith’s breath hitches and his head falls forward on a gasp. There’s a drop of something wet against the back of his palm and Shiro applies enough pressure to force Keith’s fist open until he can press their palms together and entwine their fingers.

“I’m not going to get in the way of your dream,” Keith tells him brokenly and there’s a half-hearted tug on his hand but Shiro rubs a thumb over the back of Keith’s hand and a shudder rolls across Keith’s shoulders. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

What he wants? He wants to know their marriage is as important to Keith as it is to him.

“I want to know you value this marriage as much as I do.”

Keith's eyes snap up. They glow brilliant and shiny with the storm of his emotions.

“You think I wouldn't fight for you?” he demands harshly. “You think I wouldn't tear the universe apart for you? You think I wouldn't _follow_ you? That I wouldn’t go with you?”

“What?” Shiro’s throat goes instantly dry.

“I'll join the garrison,” Keith says then, shifting on the stool. He turns his body towards Shiro until their face to face and the sparking temper on his skin turns into earnest begging. He clutches at Shiro with his spare hand, so tightly it briefly floods his brain with feedback from the tech and he has to blink to force himself to focus on Keith’s face.

And his face. God, there’s a rawness there, determination and a lurking fear. For the first time, Shiro sees himself reflected in Keith’s eyes. All the emotion Keith has for him.

“Keith-“

“No, you said my scores on that sim were good and that officer at the open day told Lance and I we’d be valuable up there so I know they’ll take me. So, we'll go together. You can still have your dream and I’ll be right there with you. I don’t care as long as we're together. I don't care _where.”_

Shiro stares at him. His eyes are blazing, a million galaxies swirling. A cold finger of fate traces down his spine. He remembers Keith’s face after the sky dome, at the memorial, the anguish when Thace was unwell.  He shakes his head firmly. No. _No._

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not. I’m offering.”

“I know how important your job is to you.”

_And I know how you feel about the garrison._

“ _You’re_ important to me, Shiro. What we have… What I feel for you-“ Keith swallows and gives a small toss of his head. There’s a small sparkle where the light catches the tear that rests on his lashes.  “It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me-“ Keith draws in a shaky breath and his voice becomes scratchy and low. “And if you don’t… What happens in ten, twenty years? When you look back and realise I wasn’t worth giving up your dream for?”

Keith’s words are barely a whisper, but they burrow down deep. The agony on his husband’s face hurts, like a wound in his side that suddenly flares bright and blinding and then it fades.

It fades, and then the clarity settles in.

Keith isn’t trying to push him away. He’s not trying to diminish the commitment they’ve made. He wasn’t lying when he told Shiro he loved him.

Keith loves him, loves him so much he’d sacrifice his own happiness to ensure that Shiro has his.

Keith loves him that much. Keith cares about him that much. It blazes out of him, leaking from every pore. And it’s his. Keith loves him.

The garrison can’t compare to this. The garrison and space, they can’t show him the love that Keith does.

Suddenly any creeping doubts Shiro held about his decision disappear and the ground shifts back rock solid under his feet. He finds his orbit again.

“Keith, that won’t happen. It won’t happen because my dream has changed.”

He threads his fingers through Keith’s hair, cupping his face but Keith can’t seem to bring himself to look up. “Baby, look at me.”

Keith’s face scrunches and Shiro wonders how much of it is from pain from the accident or from what he’s just said.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been going about this all wrong. But my time with the garrison… I’m done. I can’t move on with the next chapter of my life – _our_ life - if I keep trying to re-read the old one.”

Keith’s face scrunches tighter before he draws a breath and his eyes open. There’s no mistaking the shimmer that fills them but it’s the stutter behind them, the confusion that makes Shiro realise it’s not just his ground that has been shaken. Keith’s hands clutch at Shiro’s forearms, blunt nails digging in as he swallows thickly. There’s a lot going on behind those beautiful eyes and Shiro knows he’s desperately trying to stay afloat.

“I don’t-” Keith shakes his head. “What do you mean? Shiro, this doesn’t make sense. How can you be done?”

Shiro releases Keith’s cheeks and skims his hands down his shoulders, down his arms until he finds his hands, drawing them away from where they clutch at him. He links their fingers together, turning them both so the deep bands of their wedding rings glint in the light.

“I mean exactly that. I have four months left on my current contract with the garrison, but after that, I have no intention of going back. You’ve shown me a world away from the garrison, you’ve opened my eyes to other possibilities, Keith.”

“I don’t want you to leave the garrison because of me,” Keith whispers. “That’s the opposite of what I want.”

“I won’t be leaving because of you. I’m leaving because of me. This is something I need to do. I need to step out of the garrison’s shadow. It’s long overdue but… I need to know who I am without it.”

Keith’s eyes search his face. Shiro knows what he’ll see there. Acceptance. Confidence. This decision feels right. Like the first time he realised he was truly falling in love with his husband. The knowledge laces every part of him, every atom and he’s never felt stronger in his conviction that somehow everything has been leading to this.

“But,” Keith starts then stops, his jaw working silently as his mind tries to sift everything into place. “If not the garrison… then… then what will you do?”

It’s a quiet question and any heat has long since leaked away. Keith wears the expression of a man ready to go to the gallows only to realise he’s been pardoned moments before death. And Shiro has no doubt that death is what would follow if they went into the black together, perhaps not physically but Shiro knows the garrison and its expansion into space wouldn’t be an environment Keith would thrive in. He’s not even sure it’s one he would anymore.

He can live without the garrison, he can’t live without Keith.

“It won’t be easy,” he starts, blowing a breath out between his lips. His heart flutters, strangely anxious now he needs to put voice to the thoughts and ideas that had been bouncing around in his head. It was one thing to talk it over with Hunk and see the relief and excitement and a newfound determination in his eyes, but it was something else to have to lay it out on the table in front of his husband.

It was daunting. This venture… it was standing on the precipice of something that had the potential to change his life, and so many others. He might sink. He might swim. Either way, he’s tired of just standing there.

“But I really hope you’ll support me.”

“You know I will,” Keith tells him. There’s a spark of curiosity, of interest in his eyes that is unmistakable. His hands press tight against Shiro’s own and Shiro can’t resist stealing a small kiss from his husband’s lips to steady himself, to gather himself. Keith seems to need it too, the soft contact soothes the both of them, links them close together. Shiro presses his forehead to Keith’s briefly.

“I haven’t told you what it is,” Shiro says softly. His eyes are closed, savouring the contact. The turbulent winds whipping around them fade, there’s just a quiet peace there now. He holds onto that, lets it seep inside him.

“Then tell me,” Keith murmurs.

Shiro draws a breath and takes a step out onto a new path, a new direction. One that will keep him close to his husband and that they can walk together.

“What if I could share this tech with others like me? Like Seo-Yun? What if I can take what happened to me… and turn it into something good?”

 

* * *

 

It’s hours after Shiro had cupped his face tenderly and wiped the damp tears away from his cheeks with cool thumbs and soft words that Keith finally understands.

Hours after Shiro had kissed him and explained everything with a hoarse voice and silver streaked eyes. Hours after Keith had finally released the coil of fear wound so tightly inside him, this time for the last time.

“And you’re sure this is what you want?” Keith says for the probably the third time as he watches Shiro move around their bedroom.

He’s already tucked under the sheets, back against the cushioned headboard of their bed. Night has fallen and the curtains are drawn but Keith can still make out sounds of the neighbourhood from the open doorway to the balcony. A car slips past, the engine’s rumble rises and fades without much notice as it rolls down the street.

Shiro grabs the back of his shirt, yanking it off and dropping it into the laundry basket before he turns around. 

“Yes,” Shiro says and the note of confidence rings true in his voice. “Without a doubt.”

He rummages around in the dresser, looking for a fresh shirt to sleep in but Keith grunts as he pulls one out.  Shiro raises his eyebrow questioningly.

“Leave it,” Keith mutters. He doesn’t want any barriers tonight. He’s still sore from the accident but he’s feeling needy in a way that isn’t just physical and having Shiro sleep pressed up against him with a bare chest will go a long way to assuaging him.

He still can’t quite believe how close he’d come to pushing Shiro away. It was a good thing he’d been too physically injured that he couldn’t indulge the screaming need to run and hole up and lick his wounds, all the while trying to convince himself it was for the best.  Instead he’d been forced to stay, and talk and listen… and cry.

Cry with relief because Shiro isn’t going to leave him. Shiro doesn’t want to leave him. Shiro wants to stay here with him, to make their marriage work, to build a life side by side, to leave behind a different legacy than chasing starlight. One that includes both of them.

“Only if you return the favour,” Shiro smiles, shirt dangling from his hand. 

Keith looks down and plucks at the shirt he’s wearing then up. “Might need some help,” he says casually but Shiro laughs softly at his blatant lie.

“Okay,” he murmurs then a moment later, he’s at Keith’s side and gently pulling the shirt over his head. The sharp inhalation of his breath reminds Keith too late of what state his skin is in, smeared with dark smudges that honestly looked worse than they felt.

Or maybe that was just the stuff Allura had left him with.

“Baby, I hate seeing you like this,” Shiro says. Blunt fingertips trail ever so lightly over the bruising, too lightly that it makes Keith huff and want to squirm. Shiro’s eyes go wide. “Did that hurt?”

“No,” Keith mutters. “Tickles.”

“Oh,” Shiro chuckles then but draws his hand away. Keith’s about to protest when Shiro leans forward to press his lips against Keith’s in a smooth, chaste kiss. When he draws back, his eyes are shadowed and Keith knows they’re about to circle back around to the same thing they’ve spent the afternoon discussing. “Did talking with Hunk help convince you?”

Keith knows Shiro is half teasing but the undercurrent of concern in his voice triggers a sigh from Keith’s mouth. Hunk had stopped by the townhouse in the afternoon, bearing an armful of groceries that resulted in their pantry almost bursting at the seams. But then he’d sat down and told Keith his plans, Shiro’s plans and how they were going to create something amazing together. Something that wouldn’t just help Shiro, but countless others too.

A new path, a new venture, far away from the garrison.

“Yes,” Keith murmurs. His eyes land on the join where Shiro’s flesh melds with the advanced prosthetic and he bites his lip. “But what about flying? And the space program? You’re just going to give that up?”

“I have no intention of going back to that,” Shiro says then. He lays one wide palm over Keith’s thigh, the weight of it like an anchor holding Keith in place. He doesn’t mind, he feels like he needs it, or the lightness of his hopes might let him float away. “I don’t think I ever really did, which I suppose why I kept it to myself for so long-”

Keith’s lips purse with an unspoken protest but the squeeze against his thigh Shiro offers cuts him off.

“And I know that’s not an excuse,” Shiro continues. “And I can only apologise for that, for not being upfront with you-“

“Why didn’t you?” Keith rushes to ask then wonders why he did.

He doesn’t like how his voice sounds kind of needy but then this was Shiro, and he doesn’t have the inclination or the desire to play games with him. Any kind of barrier has long since been scraped away and there’s nothing preventing Shiro from seeing him as he is, completely and utterly.

It lets in all the joy, but it makes the hurts sharper too.

“I mean,” Keith struggles to find the words. “If it was because of me-“

“No, baby,” Shiro assures him. “No, it’s… it’s difficult to articulate but I suppose the best way to put it was that it was enough to know that I _could,_ if I still wanted to. I could go back up there. For the first time in years, they weren’t telling me no. For the first time since the accident, the brass, they didn’t see me as just broken-“

“You’ve never been broken, even then-“

“I was. But that’s okay. I’m not anymore. And I have you to thank for that, Keith. The way you love me, it was the boost I needed. You accepted me for who I am, you opened my eyes to a life beyond the garrison and… baby, there’s a hell of a difference between being told I can’t go into space, to walking away on my own terms.”

“You won’t be Commander Shirogane now though.” Keith says it with force, as though trying to drive the point home. He doesn’t want Shiro to have any regrets, he needs to make sure that Shiro’s decision on this is iron clad.

Shiro huffs quietly in amusement.

“No, that was my grandfather. I’m just me. Just Shiro. And I need-” Shiro’s eyes darken. His smile fades. “I need to stop chasing ghosts and live for myself.”

Keith pulls him close then, and Shiro shuffles across the mattress to press into his side. He does it gently though, ever mindful of Keith’s injuries. Keith tangles one hand through the pale strands of Shiro’s hair, presses a kiss to his temple. He understands. They’d both been chasing ghosts, him with his mother, Shiro trying to follow his parents and grandfather’s legacy and even when the garrison had shut the door on him, he’d still lingered, still tried to find a way to reach them.

But still, Keith has to be sure. Sure that Shiro isn’t doing this, isn’t turning it down for him.

“I meant what I said last night though,” he whispers. “I’ll enlist. I’ll go with you. If it’s what you really want-”

Shiro sits up and captures his chin. The touch of his hand on Keith’s jaw steals away the rest of his words and his throat gets thick. Shiro’s eyes scan his face, searching for the truth. And the truth? The truth is that the thought of signing his life over to the garrison scares the shit out of him, but the thought of losing Shiro scares him more.

“You really would, wouldn’t you?” Shiro murmurs and Keith jerks his head once. His heart pounds. “You love me that much.”

“Yeah,” Keith answers, wishing he could stop his voice from cracking. “I do.”

Shiro studies his face for a moment longer, his eyes soft and then Shiro closes the distance between them. His lips are warm and soft. They slide together, each pass, each press a return home, settling into his chest. The walls come up but it’s not between them. Not anymore. This time it’s barricading themselves together from outside. This kiss seems different, it tastes like gratitude and relief and when Shiro draws back, there’s a slight sheen to his gaze that turns his eyes into molten silver.

“You know, I was sixteen when I was accepted into the space flight program. I still remember the speech Admiral Sanda gave us. I guess when you’re sixteen you don’t really know how much life might catch you by surprise, how it can rear up and slam you into the dirt. And I thought the garrison was what I wanted. Even… after. Even when the crash made it impossible, I still couldn’t tear myself away.” Shiro shakes his head, his smile is small, faintly rueful. “But I’m in a different place now. I’m not that kid anymore. I mean, I’m almost thirty-“

“Seven,” Keith cuts him off. Shiro sits back, his brows bunched together abruptly for an instant before he catches sight of the smirk that’s stolen over Keith’s mouth. “You’re seven,” Keith tells him seriously. “And a quarter.”

Shiro blinks once, then his chest falls apart in a delighted boom of laughter that has Keith’s face splitting wide in an answering grin. God, but it feels good to laugh together. It’s the first real laugh they’ve shared since before the garrison’s bombshell and Keith is sure his is half a sob but it’s okay when his eyes are suddenly streaming and his nose is stinging because he’s sure Shiro’s are too. Keith curls a hand around Shiro’s nape, using his uninjured arm to draw his husband close. Their foreheads bump gently together and a soft puff of breath skims over his cheek full of mint and sweetness.

“I love you,” Shiro exclaims through his laugh, shoulders still quivering. “Oh, god, I love you so much.”

He can’t say anymore because Keith is suddenly greedily kissing him, curling his fingers tighter to guide Shiro over him with a light press to the back of his neck. Shiro shuffles closer until he’s pressed against Keith’s flank, heated skin against Keith’s chest and not even the sharp twinges of his bruises can dull the warmth that spreads through him. Shiro fits to him perfectly, his smooth lines settling into Keith’s jaggered edges. Or maybe it was the both of them, perfectly imperfect together.

“I love you too, Takashi. And what you and Hunk are going to do… It’s going to be a good thing.”

“It won’t be easy,” Shiro murmurs. “But that faith you have in me… I’m still going to need it. I’m still going to ask a lot of you for what we’re going to do.”

A part of Keith wants to shut down any question of doubt but he knows he owes it to the both of them to give Shiro’s words careful consideration but it’s hardly a choice, not when he feels so strongly in his gut this is where they belong.

They were meant to find each other. They were meant to do this. Of all the thousands that applied to the experiment, there was a reason they had found each other. Shiro was asking for his faith in him, for his support in shifting from one path to another. How could Keith refuse? Shiro, who had pulled him out of the dull dark he’d been content to linger in for so long. Shiro, who’d given him love and joy and humour and acceptance. He’d never had to pretend with Shiro, to hide who he was.

He’d promised himself honesty, because if whoever they matched with him couldn’t handle him as he was, then there really wasn’t any point because he wasn’t going to spend his life living a lie.

“Anything,” Keith promises him. “Everything. I’ve got your back.”

Shiro’s lips trace over Keith’s cheeks before they find his lips again. He tastes the echo of salt on Shiro’s tongue and chases it, hands grabbing at the smooth skin under his fingers as Shiro deepens the kiss. Keith welcomes it, welcomes the way Shiro shifts over him, cradling him, enclosing around him until they meld together impossibly tight.

And it’s right. It feels so right.

A little while later, half asleep and content after Shiro had drawn him close and his cheek is pillowed against his husband’s broad chest, he stares at the canvas on the wall, the splashes of paint that look like twirling galaxies and it doesn’t bring the same dread, the same drop of his gut as it once did.

The garrison no longer has a hold over them now. Shiro will walk a new path, and Keith plans to be there with him every step of the way.


	59. lay down this armor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just preface this with WOW THANK YOU SO MUCH for all your kind words of support on the last chapter – I haven’t got around to replying individually yet (because I get so emotional!) but I will soon, I promise. I can’t express how much those comments and feedback mean to me. I would have given up on this a long time ago if it wasn’t for the support <3 <3 <3
> 
> This was supposed to be just the first part of CH59 but then I saw the word count and figured it could do to stand alone as its own chapter. I’ve been sick lately (again, wtf) so I’m kinda behind on where I want to be with this so, um, consider this a peace offering while I get my shit together.

Keith hooks his fingers through the wire mesh of the fence and peers through, trying to spot a familiar splash of red in amongst the wrecked vehicles that crowd the plot. The smell of motor oil lingers on the wind and the day is drab and grey as it hangs over the expanse of the wrecking yard. Beside him, one of the workers, dressed in grease stained overalls that look like they might have been navy blue once but now smeared with black, holds a tablet. His thick fingers flick over the screen before he points.

Keith follows his finger with his gaze.

“Is that my bike?”

“What’s left of it,” the man grunts.

Keith’s lips turn down a little as he stares at the shattered machine. No wonder he didn’t spot it straight away, it’s almost unrecognizable, a crumpled mess and panels missing but most of the real damage seems confined to the front end.

“It doesn’t look so bad.”

The man beside him snorts and shakes his head. “You won’t be able to salvage much out of that, boyo,” he tells him before he walks away.  Keith doesn’t take his eyes off the bike, not even when Shiro finds him with fingers still hooked through the fence a moment later.

“Is that what’s left of it?” Shiro asks. He hides the strain of distress in his voice better than most, but Keith is too well versed in Shiro’s tones now not to notice it. He winces slightly on the inside, knowing that Shiro’s thoughts are no doubt echoing his own.

Lucky. So lucky. That could easily have been an accident Keith wouldn’t have walked away from.

“Yeah,” Keith forces himself away from that thread of thought and drops his hand, pushing away from the fence and turning towards his husband. Shiro holds a small bundle in his hands.

“What’s that?” he asks curiously.

“Just a little something. I managed to get them to save this for you at least.”

Shiro tugs aside a slice of the dark material and Keith can’t help the small chuckle that escapes, because _of course_ Shiro would think to salvage this. He takes it gingerly from Shiro’s grasp, running his fingers over the number plate, 01RED.  It’s buckled slightly and scratched up but it will be a nice memento.

“Thanks, Shiro,” he murmurs. “Guess I better start looking for a new bike.”

“Hmm,” Shiro says. His hum is carefully neutral. “If that’s what you want.”

Keith’s fingers still in their journey, halfway around the R. He half expects Shiro to say more, to tell him another bike might be a bad idea but Shiro stays quiet. Respectful. This isn’t going to be a subject he’s going to try to force.

A moment passes, then another until Keith gives his husband a small sideways glance before he slides an arm around his waist and leans into the solid wall of his chest.

“You always know the right thing to say,” Keith tells him.  He feels Shiro’s response more than he hears it, a vibration through his torso.

“I do?”

“Yeah.” Keith leans back to look up at Shiro’s face. There’s a bemused sort of smile on Shiro’s lips but his grey eyes are warm. 

“Pretty much everyone has told me I’m crazy for even considering to replace the bike.”

Shiro’s hand comes to rest against the small of his back, as though holding him in place.

“Well, I trust you. Whatever you decide, we’ll make it work.”

It really does all come down to that, doesn’t it? Trust. Does he truly trust that Shiro is making the right decision to turn his attentions elsewhere? On the surface he screams yes, but deep down, in the smallest, darkest part of him, he’s still not sure. He shifts uncomfortably, unable to process the heaviness that still sits in his gut. Shiro makes it sound so simple. So easy. But nothing is really ever that simple.

“Hey,” Shiro snags his chin, forcing him to look up. It’s a gentle guide, Keith doesn’t have much resistance in him anyway.  “Why don’t you take my car for a while until you decide. I’ll ride with Pidge in the meantime.”

“Shiro, no. I can’t do that.”

“Sure, you can. It makes more sense that you do. Your hours are all over the place and Lance isn’t always on the same rotation as you, plus his place is on the other side of the river anyway.”

Keith frowns at the logic even though it’s sound. He doesn’t like the thought of taking something that’s Shiro’s for his own use, even if it’s offered freely. And Shiro’s car was an overdramatic beast, it was fun to drive but not really… Keith.  “Are you sure?”

Shiro flashes him a smile and drops a kiss to his temple that makes Keith turn himself into him snugly once again. Shiro is a warm spot of light in the drab grey of an overcast day.

“Of course. What’s mine is yours.”

Later, they head back to the townhouse. Keith moves much easier, itching to get back to work and to be useful again. The past few days have been a haven, Shiro electing to do half days, having found another officer to take over the sim runs with the cadets in the afternoon. Some guy called Adam that Keith suspected there might be an inkling of a history with judging by the way Shiro roughly clears his throat and glances away cagily when pressed.

It’s cool. Keith isn’t bothered. Shiro had married _him_ after all.

Shiro married him, and now he was walking away from the garrison. He wasn’t just electing to reject the promotion and reinstatement, he was planning to leave all together and now that the initial shock had worn off, Keith is still trying to process how he feels about it.

He’s glad, he’s relieved and he’s proud of Shiro for the determination to make what happened to him be a force for good, but he’s uneasy too.

He’s uneasy because he doesn’t want to be the reason Shiro turns away from something that’s been so fundamental in his life for so long. He doesn’t want Pidge or Sam to look at him with thinly veiled reproach for stealing Shiro away from them, he doesn’t want to feel that rush of guilt every time he thinks about how close Shiro could be to getting back in the cockpit on a regular basis, even though he professes with absolute certainty that he has moved on.

He finds himself troubled enough that he wants to take himself upstairs when they get back to the townhouse, resolving to take advantage of his last day of leave to take a nap. He hopes Shiro will join him, knowing full well if he does, there won’t be much napping involved.

Not if he has anything to say about it.

The craving to have Shiro inside to him is more powerful than he cares to admit. He wants that link, that connection. He wants Shiro’s tongue in his mouth, his arms around him, and to have Shiro buried inside him so hard that he’ll feel it when he walks for days. Because despite everything, he still feels uneasy. Still wary. As though Shiro is going to turn around any second and change his mind, even though he’s given no indication he has even the slightest doubt about his decision.

No, because it’s Keith that’s holding all the doubt for the both of them.

As it stands, he doesn’t get any further than the couch before Shiro sighs and tugs his hand, unbalancing him enough he ends up flopped into Shiro’s lap. Shiro loops his arms around him loosely and rubs his nose against Keith’s neck with a small hum.

“Okay, what is it?” Shiro asks. “You’ve been walking around with a thundercloud over your head for days. Talk to me.”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

“Something is still bothering you. I can tell.”

“No.”

Shiro draws back and looks at him shrewdly. Too shrewdly for Keith not to realise he’s about to be called out on his bullshit. 

“Well, in that case, I am clearly reading your signals wrong,” Shiro frowns.

Keith worries his lip for a beat before he huffs and sighs. Maybe if he gets it out, this one final time, he can move on. He scrambles out of Shiro’s lap to wedge himself in the corner of the couch defensively. “Okay, fine.”

Shiro watches him expectantly, one smooth brow raised as he settles back against the couch.

“Well?” he prompts.

“I asked around, you know,” Keith starts. He doesn’t realise he’s folded his arms tightly across his chest until Shiro’s gaze flicks to them and he forces himself to loosen up. His heartrate seems to pick up slightly and his mouth goes dry. “I asked Colleen when she stopped by the other day, and Thace too.”

“About what?”

“They’re rare,” Keith mutters. “But they exist.”

“I’m not following. What do?”

Keith draws in a deep breath to steel himself. It’s not something he’s keen on but if he doesn’t let Shiro examine all their options, he’ll never be able to live with himself. And sometimes marriage was about compromise, wasn’t it?  If it meant so much to Shiro, it could mean just as much to Keith…. Maybe.

“Civilian contracts in space-“

“Keith,” Shiro cuts him off quickly and shakes his head, his brow now furrowed in something that looks like an echo of annoyance. Keith doesn’t blame him. They’re going around in circles over this again and it was starting to become a boring dance.  “We’ve been over this.”

Keith tries to bite his tongue but the words spill out of his mouth in a rush. “Are you sure it’s what you want? I mean, honestly? It’s a big change – going from the garrison and training cadets to founding an R and D company to create human prosthetics – it’s totally different-“

“Not really,” Shiro murmurs them, a twist to his lips that has Keith pausing. “It’s all about crowd control. Wrangling engineers and investors won’t be too different to wrangling cadets.”

There’s a drop of silence and Keith blinks.

“What!?”

“Keith, that was a joke.”

Keith throws up his hands. “Shiro!”

Shiro winces slightly under his temper then he reaches across the space between them to lay a warm hand on Keith’s thigh. His expression turns apologetic.

“It’s still really bothering you, isn’t it?” Shiro says softly. He rubs his hand over Keith’s knee and the soothing motion saps away Keith’s heat almost instantly. “That I’m leaving the garrison.”

“And what about flying?” Keith demands. “You just got back into the air, you’re really going to give that up?”

“Who says I’m giving it up? Maybe I’ll retrain, learn to fly what you do.”

Keith gives him a narrowed look, unsure if Shiro is completely serious. “You joke about that, but you have no idea how desperate for pilots we can be when the shit hits the fan,” he says quietly on a half hearted shrug.

That seems to snag Shiro’s interest. “Really?”

Keith snorts and folds his arms across his chest again, not even close to being mollified. “Big difference from your fancy garrison jets,” he mutters, only to have Shiro chuckle in response.

“Shouldn’t be too hard to master then,” Shiro teases and Keith finds himself sorely tempted to throw a pillow at him but the amusement quickly fades under the heavy subject at hand.

“I just… I need you to be sure,” Keith says after a long moment.

“Hmm.” Shiro hums but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips that Keith chases with his gaze. “Sure I’m not leaving because of you.”

“Well, yeah. I get wanting a new direction but... if you hadn’t married me, would you still be doing this?”

Shiro pins him with a measured look but to his credit, he gives Keith’s question careful consideration.

“Matt asked me something similar,” he muses. “I had to really sit down and think about it, but my answer is the same. Like I told you a few days ago, I need to stop chasing ghosts. I need to do this for myself. Part of the reason I went to the experiment was because the garrison wasn’t fulfilling what I needed, it hasn’t for a long time. It’s just taken me a while to realise.” Shiro gives him a small smile and he reaches up one wide hand to smooth a chunk of hair behind Keith’s ear. “Turns out, I needed you to show me. You were just the final piece of the puzzle.”

Shiro leans in to kiss him, just a small, honest press of his lips against Keith’s then he draws back. His eyes are bright with assurance, silver depths that calms the nervous flutter in Keith’s gut. “Trust me, Keith. This is what I want.”

“Okay,” Keith sighs. He’s tired of going backwards and forwards on it. All he can do now is trust Shiro like he asks.

In an effort to shift the mood, he scoots closer and loops his arms around Shiro’s neck. He draws him in close, pulling him down until Keith is sandwiched between his husband’s huge solid form and the couch cushions. Shiro’s heavy but there’s not a single twinge or ache from his body that when Shiro tries to shift enough to support his own weight, Keith just pulls him down tighter and heavier.

“Kiss me,” he demands and he almost thinks Shiro is going to resist when his husband uses metal fingers to stroke back his hair from his face. He has a sudden memory of the moment before he walked down the aisle, yanking his hair back over his eyes instead of the slicked back style Lance had badgered him into. It was a flimsy defence but it was one all the same but with Shiro, it’s one he no longer needs. 

Shiro breathes out his name then lowers his head. Their kiss is soft and chaste, sweet and gentle and it sends Keith’s heart racing with joy and contentment and the knowledge that he’s safe here. He’s safe in Shiro’s arms, he’s safe opening himself up and letting Shiro peer into all his dark, dusty corners because he knows Shiro understands him in a way no one ever has before, and Shiro isn’t afraid.

“I need you,” Keith murmurs when they pull apart.

He traces two fingers down Shiro’s cheek, studying the dusky line of his scar against the rest of his pale skin and he wonders to himself if Shiro might let the scruff grow when he’s no longer beholden to the garrison, if he’ll let his hair get longer. He’d be beautiful like that, Keith thinks absently as he traces the line of his husband’s jaw. He hopes one day he’ll see it.

“I’m here, baby. I’m not going anywhere. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Shiro kisses him again, the same, soft tender kiss as before and Keith can feel the need inside him climbing like a tidal wave. Shiro’s mouth laves over his, his tongue gently probing, slipping past the seam of Keith’s lips with sweetness and care and the gentleness of it makes Keith feel weak. He feels like he’s drifting, lost amongst the clouds in a dreamy journey to bliss that Shiro carries him to and it’s wholly different to the hunger that usually drives them.

But after a week without, Keith feels that old hunger sparking slowly to life inside him. “Shiro,” he gasps, dizzy from the way Shiro has moved his lips to trail along his jaw. He hasn’t bothered to shave for a few days and his scruff is light but when Shiro lifts his head, his lips are red from the contact.  “I need you on my skin, I need you in me. I need to feel you for days.”

Keith can see the exact moment the shift comes over his husband. The exact moment when the loving sweetness turns into a devoted need. Shiro’s voice immediately gets rough as he says Keith’s name.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

Keith almost wants to laugh in relief and itching hunger. He feels like he’s starting to burn now, crashing down from the clouds and clinging tightly to his husband as the heat between them builds. It’s only been a week, a week to let Keith’s body heal and Shiro has been so solicitous since Keith’s crash, not getting too close unless invited or heating things up between them too much. It had been sweet torture but it had been a beautifully pleasant discovery too. Even without the sex, they still worked well together, still had plenty to learn about each other, still enjoyed each other and genuinely revelled in the unexpected extra time together. They had spent their time sinking into the quiet domesticity in their townhouse in a way they hadn’t been able to since they had been married. It was quiet and simple and easy and more than once Keith had caught himself staring across the table at his husband’s face thinking _this is my life now_ and then struggling against the urge to pinch himself to prove he wasn’t dreaming.

He’d taken the time to rest and Shiro stayed close. Save for the morning classes he wasn’t able to shift, Shiro limited his time at the garrison, returning instead to a faintly chagrined Keith only for him to soothe away Keith’s disquiet with a kiss and a quietly murmured _this is where I belong now_. And when he was out, Keith held the sketchpad and the tin of pencils Shiro had silently slid across the kitchen counter the day after the crash. The pencils were quality, and the pad the sort that a professional artist would use and Keith could tell just by looking at them that Shiro would had to have gone out of his way to purchase them.

But he’d done that. He’d done that because it was a gesture he knew Keith would appreciate, just as he had known not to make a fuss when Keith teared up when he saw them. Instead, Shiro had simply gathered him into his chest and kissed his hair while Keith made his shirt damp with silent tears.

They’d laid together in motions reminiscent of their honeymoon, lazy days of Keith leaning against Shiro’s broad chest, savouring the rumble under his ear as Shiro read out loud to him one of the paperbacks Lance had brought him. He loved Shiro’s voice, and he loved the way Shiro made him laugh with his softly dramatic reading, employing the same inflections (albeit muted) to character voices as he had when reading to the kids. He was humorous but relaxed and comfortable and Keith fell in love with him just that little bit harder, all over again. Still falling and he doesn’t know or care if he’ll ever stop, so long as Shiro doesn’t stop too.

He hadn’t realised how important it was to him that they were friends as well, the gentle teasing… the rambling conversations, the easy way they found themselves on the same page about how they saw the world and how they spent their time. He enjoyed talking to Shiro, planning their future… they finally had the time to have the talks they needed to. They talked about the holidays and how they would spend them, talked about getting away for a weekend once the garrison contract was up and going somewhere no one could reach them, they talked about Keith’s sisters and his fears for them since Ezor had apparently agreed to talk and the three of them were now in protective custody under the watchful eye of Kolivan’s law enforcement contacts.

They talked about how Shiro’s new venture would mean Shiro wouldn’t have an income stream for a while, how he was anxious about that and Keith had teased him gently about being the bread winner in the relationship and secretly revelling in the notion of being the one to support Shiro like this. Keith couldn’t woo investors, he wasn’t an inventor or an engineer, but he could be the one in the wings doing everything else he could to help Shiro’s new dream get off the ground.

Despite everything that had happened, he feels like they’ve only grown closer and more in love than ever.

Close, but Keith still wants to be closer.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Shiro says in the softest of tones. It makes his voice low and it sends a shiver down Keith’s spine.

Keith curls his fingers against the nape of his husband’s neck, gripping with enough pressure that Shiro’s eyes widen slightly then snap into darkness. Heat pools heavy in Keith’s gut and he attempts a small roll of his hips, only to find Shiro is too big and heavy over him and he can barely move.

But… oh. He can feel _that._ It gives him satisfaction that Shiro yearns for him just as much.

“Takashi,” he whispers. His heart thuds painfully against his ribs. “It’s been a week. You know I heal fast. I want you.”

Shiro doesn’t answer immediately, still staring down at him with eyes dark and measured. He’s still for so long Keith licks his lips and lets out another hoarsely whispered _please_. God, but he needs him. He needs Shiro to take him and mark him and make him forget they could ever be apart.

Shiro strokes his cheeks gently, the soft touch directly at odds with the creeping desire in his eyes. Keith can see it building, the same need, the same longing. Shiro looks at him like he’s a million stars creating a galaxy and Keith’s still not sure what he ever did to make Shiro look at him like that but he doesn’t care anymore as long as he does it forever.

“Here?” Shiro finally murmurs and his gaze flickers around the room. It’s comfortable on the couch, the TV softly playing in the background but Keith wants him where there won’t be any distractions.

“Take me to bed?”

The softly uttered words seem to be just what Shiro needs to launch into action and within the space of a heartbeat, Keith finds himself being hoisted up, Shiro’s hands under his thighs and their chests pressed tightly together. He doesn’t think Shiro needs the help, but he curls his arms around Shiro’s shoulder and buries his face into the side of his neck even as his ankles lock at the small of Shiro’s back. It’s rare that Keith lets Shiro manhandle him so effortlessly like this and it’s the first time he’s let Shiro carry him up the stairs and into their bedroom this way but when Shiro lays him down on the sheets so easily, he wonders why he never had previously.

“Wow,” he blinks breathlessly. “That was hot.”

Shiro laughs quietly against his cheek. “You’ve never let me do that before.”

“I.. I can’t remember why not,” Keith hears himself say dazedly, only to have another soft laugh from his husband wash over him.  God, he loves that sound. “You can do that any time you want.”

“Duly noted,” Shiro murmurs on a kiss and Keith once again finds himself pinned under Shiro’s bulky weight. This time his legs part and Shiro slides a thigh between them and Keith gasps into his mouth at the motion. 

“Shiro,” he moans quietly. The need is clawing at him once again, a hand around his throat he wishes was his husband’s. “Inside me, _now.”_

“Tsk, bossy,” Shiro nips gently against his skin but Keith can feel the smile there and then a metal hand skims heavily down his flank and tucks in between them, swiping teasingly over the bulge coming to life then curling over the edge of Keith’s soft shorts. “I like it.”

“Takashi,” Keith spills out on a moan. Shiro’s fingers rest against his belly, not delving any further and he’s too heavy for Keith to nudge in this heated state. “Don’t fucking tease me.”

Shiro’s quiet laugh turns apologetic, then disappears all together when he rears back and divests himself of his shirt and Keith’s pants in two short motions. He’s glorious bared like this, broad shoulders defined by strong muscle and a pale lattice work of scarring but it’s the way he looks at Keith that makes Keith so breathless.

“You’re so beautiful,” Keith says, raising his arms and flexing his fingers in an effort to draw his husband back. Shiro smiles at him, then kneels with one knee against the bed, the other still on the floor to steady himself.

“Not as beautiful as you,” he murmurs, swooping down to trail a row of kisses along Keith’s abdomen. Shiro inches up with his mouth and his hands, skimming over Keith’s torso and bunching the material of his shirt as he goes until he flicks his tongue out over Keith’s nipple, first one side then the other and Keith arches up with a cry. The shirt quickly gets thrown away and Keith is sprawled on his back, naked and exposed where Shiro hovers over him.

“Don’t say that,” Keith finally manages to pant. He tries to force his body to reach for Shiro’s own shorts but he can’t quite reach. His fingertips scrabble weakly at the band and Shiro laughs quietly, a low rumble before he steps back long enough to rummage around in the side table then shuck off his pants and then yes, _yes_ , he comes back to drape himself bare and hard and hot along Keith’s form. Keith sighs contentedly at the contact.  “You’re so beautiful, inside and out and I’m going to tell you that every day for the rest of our lives.”

Shiro props himself up with one hand and shifts slightly to the side. He’s pressed against Keith’s flank now, one leg draped over Keith’s thighs, his metal arm heavy across Keith’s stomach. Keith feels weighed down by the bulk of him, but it’s a heaviness he needs.

“The rest of our lives, huh?” Shiro murmurs. There’s shine in his eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago. Keith’s heart races.

“Yeah. I’m all in.”

Shiro lowers his head, a slow dip that has Keith bowing up to meet him halfway and finally their lips meet in another kiss that has them sinking into their own private universe, a universe created with indigo streaks and silver stars just for them. Only for them.

The heat rises but they keep it a slow build, practiced kisses that make Keith almost lightheaded but make him feel like his very atoms are spreading apart, sinking into Shiro and Keith closes his eyes and worships him.

Shiro’s hand creeps up, planting itself against the base of Keith’s throat and Keith quivers into the kiss when Shiro shifts over him again and scoops him up. It’s another shameless display of his husband’s strength and Keith spares a moment to promise himself to allow more freedom for Shiro to display his strength like this.

“Holy fuck,” Keith gasps with amazement. Shiro barely breaks a sweat lifting him and Keith half expects Shiro to pin him to the wall and take him that way, prep be damned. He’s almost disappointed when Shiro turns them around and takes two steps backwards to sit on the corner of the bed, nestling Keith securely on his lap.

“You like it when I carry you, huh?” There’s no mistaking the note of smugness in Shiro’s voice. Keith doesn’t think to lie.

“Holy shit, yes.”

Keith exhales roughly, looping his arms around Shiro’s neck and pressing their mouths together once again. He rocks against Shiro, on him, quivering at the contact between their bellies where they’re hard and leaking. The friction is good but it’s almost better when Shiro winds around him, tight arm around his waist, a palm heavy on the centre of his back, one hand tangled in his hair and cradling his head as Shiro kisses him.

It’s the power of Shiro’s kisses that carries him away and leaves him dazed and panting and god, Shiro isn’t even inside him yet.

And Keith aches. He _aches_ for it and then Shiro’s hand is there, sliding greedily over his ass and slicked fingers circling his entrance. The touch is electric and Keith tears his mouth away only to whimper into the side of Shiro’s neck.

“Shiro, oh, god. _Shiro-“_

“Let me in, baby,” Shiro murmurs and it’s the only thing Keith needs to keen softly against Shiro’s ear, head thrown back as he rears back and sinks down. They both gasp, Keith at the desperately craved for intrusion and Shiro at the swiftness of the motion. He curses slightly. “God, Keith, are you… _fuck, you’re so hot_. Are you okay, baby?”

“Yes,” Keith grunts around the stretch, forcing himself to open, to relax and welcome Shiro deeper. The burn sends starbursts skittering across his flesh, pricking his skin and making him pant. He’s dimly aware of his hands clutching tightly at Shiro’s shoulders, short nails digging in. There’s probably going to be bruises in the morning.

Shiro crooks his finger once and Keith gasps with the motion. He can’t stop the tremor that rolls over him. There’s an throbbing between his legs that he tries to ignore.

“More,” he demands breathlessly. It’s practically a drool against Shiro’s shoulder but his husband doesn’t hesitate to agree. He draws his hand back until Keith whimpers at the loss and then Keith moans low in his throat as another digit gets pushed in. He’s not even aware he’s thrown his head back until Shiro latches onto a patch of skin on his throat, suckling and nipping with enough force he knows it’s going to mark. It feels like they stay like this for hours and Keith is lost to the sensations of his husband working over his body like a song. Time becomes meaningless.

“Ahhh, fuck, Takashi. Oh, god. _Oh god,_ it feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Shiro murmurs and then there’s another press, more stretch and the burn that has Keith releasing a cry that turns into a whimper. “I know how I can make it better.”

Keith’s body goes tight. “Yes, but… wait, I don’t… I don’t wanna come yet-“

“Shh,” Shiro draws back and his arm wraps around Keith securely. It’s a good thing because Keith’s thighs quiver weakly under the onslaught.  “I’ve got you.”

Keith sags and one hand slips between them. He’s slick and wet, dribbling over his stomach and his husband’s but Shiro, oh god, Shiro is swollen and thick and he jerks and hisses between his teeth when Keith curls his hands around the two of them and pumps slowly.

“So big,” Keith hears himself murmur and then Shiro slides his hand down between his cheeks to tease his entrance again. “Want it. Want you-“

It’s the only invitation Shiro needs and his hands clamp against Keith’s hips. Keith catches a glimpse of Shiro’s eyes, wide and adoring as Shiro guides him. He feels the heat and the pressure and his breath rushes out of him on a whoosh when Shiro breeches him.

“So good, baby. So beautiful. You feel so good around me.”

“Shiro,” Keith moans. He has to force himself to slow, to let his body adjust before he sinks lower and his thighs shake with the effort. Shiro murmurs into is ear, soft encouragement and cradling him close to his chest. Keith draws in then exhales and sinks lower again, sobbing and eyes rolling back at the shiver of pleasure that makes his skin bloom pink and red.

“That’s it. God, a week is too long. It’s been so long since I’ve had you around me,” Shiro whispers hoarsely. Keith can hear the strain in his voice as he inches down again until finally, Shiro is sheathed to the hilt and Keith spares a moment to claw a hand at the back of Shiro’s head and press their foreheads together. He’s panting, shiny with sweat but he’s filled and marked and completely at Shiro’s mercy- 

Exactly where he belongs.

“When we’re done, we’re switching,” Shiro roughly exhales after a few moments. A few moments where they stay still, straining and panting, savouring the contact between them. Keith’s hands clutch on either side of Shiro’s neck and he can’t look away from the intensity in his eyes. He knows it’s reflected in his own. “I need to feel you too,” Shiro whispers.

“Yeah,” Keith pants breathlessly. Shiro’s hands grip his hips and there’s a faint pressure as he encourages Keith to move. He starts with one slow drag upwards that has Shiro’s eyes fluttering shut and moaning low and Keith feels himself drawing up with the power he has over this man. _He’s_ the one that can make these sounds fall from Shiro’s lips, he’s the one that makes Shiro gasp and squeeze his eyes shut, desperately trying to get himself under control. He leans forward, nuzzling into the column of Shiro’s throat, sucking in a brand of his own. “Yeah I’m going to mark you as mine.”

His own length is pressed between their stomachs, dribbling and slick, each tiny shift enough to send Keith shivering, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. He can feel Shiro all around him, the force of his love, and the air is thick with it. His chest is full, so full he doesn’t realise what’s happening when he tastes salt.

Shiro draws back and Keith feels a soft touch on his cheek. His eyelids flutter, too weak to open them, too lost to the way his body is strung and singing under his husband’s touch. It’s the sweet torture again, forcing themselves to go slow, to revel in the emotion closing off their throats as much as the bliss of falling apart together.

“Baby,” Shiro whispers it tenderly. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not,” Keith protests weakly, but it’s a lie. He can feel the sting of his eyes and the moisture leaking out of them. It’s too much, it’s overwhelming, and he feels like he’s weightless and free falling at the same time. His hands curl tighter against Shiro’s skin.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Shiro murmurs. “You’re mine now, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. You’re mine forever-“

Keith shudders, eyelids drifting shut under the force and it all seems to hit him at once - the left-over adrenaline and shock from the crash, his fears, his hopes, his acceptance - it rises up in him until he’s sobbing roughly against Shiro’s shoulder, too weak now to bother trying to hide it or hold it in and through it all, Shiro murmurs soft words and rubs a soothing hand over his back until he shifts and makes to pull away-

“Don’t you dare,” Keith growls and clenches down on his husband, thighs and all. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t. Not ever,” Shiro murmurs back. Then before Keith can blink, Shiro is shifting them again, still joined, laying Keith down onto the bed, covering over him and pressing him deeply into the mattress. It’s exactly what Keith needs, exactly what he wants and Shiro presses him into the sheets until he can’t think any more and he can only feel the throb of his husband’s body inside his. “Baby, you mean the world to me.”

“You too,” Keith gasps. He raises a hand from where it clutches so tightly at Shiro’s shoulder and traces it upwards. He twists his fingers into the silver strands of Shiro’s hair. He’s always secretly loved this part of him, the way the pale nestles against the dark. He knows it’s just one of the physical signs of Shiro’s trauma that has stayed with him but he loves it just the same.

If he could love Shiro’s trauma away, he would. If he could love Shiro into an existence away from garrison he would. Then he realises he has.

His breath hitches in his throat as tears prick anew. He feels raw tonight, his heart bleeding at the thought of how close it came to Shiro being snagged away from him. The demands the garrison would have placed on his broad shoulders, on his time, his sanity, his health. He wants to pretend he doesn’t understand a world where Shiro would consider going back to them, but Keith knows what it’s like to search for something. For a purpose or understanding, or something, _anything_ that will sit inside the void of his heart.

But like Keith had found Shiro filling that space, it seemed Keith was able to do the same for Shiro.

His cheeks grow damp and a distressed snuffle escapes. Shiro curls around him and hauls him against his chest. “Baby, it’s okay, I promise, it’s going to be okay-”

Shiro murmurs into his hair and Keith’s fingers curl before he lets out a shudder. “Don’t… don’t wanna talk,” he mumbles out. He presses his face against Shiro’s shoulder. “Please, I just- Shiro, I need you to… I need you to fuck me.”

“Keith,” Shiro sighs. He stills for a heartbeat and Keith digs his nails into Shiro’s bicep. _Make it hurt,_ he wants to say but he knows Shiro won’t be comfortable hearing that. It’s not that he wants abuse, he just wants Shiro lingering in every ache and stroke on his body for days. He needs to remember Shiro belongs him, and he belongs to Shiro.

Shiro seems to understand his wordless whimper anyway. His kisses become hungrier, his touch a little more forceful. He pins Keith’s wrists together above his head, holding them tightly with the metal fingers of his hand. He drags his mouth along Keith’s neck, encouraging Keith’s wet, needy sounds with a murmur that brokers no arguments, no hesitations and when Keith starts to beg, he abruptly draws out of Keith’s body then flips Keith over to splay him on his stomach. Shiro grabs Keith’s hips, lifting them up so that Keith is teetering with his face into the pillow, drooling and weak. When he’s securely on his knees, Shiro places his wide hands on Keith’s overheated, yearning skin and slides them down his back. Keith keens at the contrasting touch, one smooth and warm and soft, the other rougher, slightly cooler and hard. He keens loudly when Shiro spreads his cheeks and lays his tongue over him until he’s wet and whimpering and when he bucks, Shiro gently wrenches his hands away from clutching at the sheets, only to pin them loosely against his back as Shiro eases into him once again.

He’s tight, and he’s aching and he squeezes his eyes shut as he sobs harshly into the pillow. _“Shiro!”_

“I love you so much, baby,” Shiro leans over him, pressing open mouthed, wet kisses against his back. It makes his shoulders pull and the burn flirts between pleasure and pain but it’s Shiro’s voice that carries him. His voice and his heavy hands and the weight of his chest against Keith’s back.

“I-,” he gasps, trying to formulate the words. His mind is gone now, all the fears and anxiety blown away on the press of his husband inside him. Shiro seems to know what he needs, the utter possession and he whimpers again when Shiro closes his arms tightly around him, one across his shoulders and the other around his waist. He can barely move, his body aches, his mouth hangs open with shuddering breaths and he’s begging with words he can hardly articulate but that Shiro understands anyway.

Keith keens and jolts on a particularly hard thrust and Shiro plunges so deep he almost sees stars. It’s exactly what he needs and he begs, whimpering out his husband’s name in a daze for more and Shiro’s hand unfurls from his waist to delve under him, curling those fingers around the length of him that weeps into the mattress and he twitches at the touch.

“Come for me, baby,” Shiro whispers into his ear. He’s arched and slick, the press of his throat against Shiro’s metal forearm. It should be uncomfortable but Shiro somehow supports his weight and Shiro nuzzles at the space behind his ear lovingly.

“Come… come with me,” Keith manages to stutter out. He’s close now, the heat drawing up and teetering on the edge. Shiro tightens around him, and Keith sobs as Shiro starts to move. “Oh, god, oh god. Shiro-“

He turns his head to search over his shoulder and Shiro’s mouth claims his, cutting off his cry in a deep kiss that is slow and tender despite the steadily increasing pistol of Shiro’s hips. And that kiss, that kiss tells him more than words ever could.

There’s a guttural moan from Shiro against his mouth and then he’s flooded with heat. Shiro reaches under him, mouth now sliding over the damp skin of his back as he jerks him and it only takes a few strokes until Keith is crying out and shuddering and spilling onto the sheets under him, breathless and panting. Shiro steadies him, softly murmuring until Keith comes down, until he finds his way back into his body.

“Good, baby?” Shiro murmurs and before he can answer, Shiro threads a metal arm around his waist and lifts him once again, turning him onto his side. He doesn’t have the energy to protest the easy way Shiro manhandles him, doesn’t think to when his entire body feels weak like jelly.

“I love you,” Keith shudders out, pressing his face into the centre of Shiro’s bare chest. Shiro tastes like salt and sweat and his skin is deliciously smooth under Keith’s mouth. Shiro hooks a thigh over him, holding him close, unheeding of any mess and curling his arms around him protectively. He kisses the top of Keith’s hair and smooths away the sweat or maybe lingering tears with the palm of his hand.

"I love you, too. And I'm not going anywhere."

Keith closes his eyes and sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven’t heard the delightful reading by Josh (as Shiro!) of "twas the night we formed xmas", please do yourself a favour and check it out to get an idea of what Keith got treated to. Ugh, my heart!!


	60. baby, we are rocksteady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> domestic fluff and shiro's turn to get loved on (he was in rare form when i wrote this and i really have nothing to say for myself) oh and uh, hi adam

Keith pads downstairs later that afternoon to find Shiro settled in on the couch, Black at his side and headphones over his ears. He’s singing along to some old classic song Keith remembers from one of Antok’s questionable music stations as a kid and he’s lost to whatever he’s doing on the tablet.

For a moment, Keith hovers at the bottom of the stairs and just admires him. He admires the man he’s fortunate enough to have been able to marry, that he now shares a home and a life with.

Gratitude fills his heart.

“Hey,” he says softly, accompanying the greeting with a slide of his hands over Shiro’s shoulders, leaning down over the back of the couch to brush his lips against Shiro’s cheek. Shiro jumps ever so slightly, enough of a jolt that Black gives them a golden eyed glare of disgust and hops down to trot off into the kitchen, tail stuck high in the air.

“Hi,” Shiro says back, pulling away his headphones. He pats the couch beside him in invitation and Keith doesn’t hesitate to round the couch and drop down. Shiro shoves the headphones and the tablet away, out of sight and out of mind, and turns into prop one elbow against the headrest and rest his chin. “Sleep okay?”

“Did I ever,” Keith chuckles. He can’t fight the warm blush that heats his cheeks as the memory of their afternoon antics slide behind his eyes. His body still aches in sweet ways, still wears the marks of Shiro’s mouth and hands. Keith loves it. He wears them like medals. “You completely wrecked me.”

Shiro gives him a warm smile, a secret smile that tells Keith his own mind is traversing over the same memories. His gaze drops and lands on one particular mark against Keith’s throat and he winces slightly.

“Damn, that one is a bit high, sorry baby.”

“It’s fine,” Keith shrugs, only to have Shiro lift a surprised eyebrow at him.

“Really? You don’t strike me as the sort to want to broadcast that kind of thing and you’re back at work tomorrow.”

Keith levels a look at him. It was true, he wasn’t big on flaunting those kinds of public displays but he’s so sated and feeling so content, there’s really nothing that can bring down his buzz.

Besides, he’s sure there’s a way to hide it if it’s too noticeable. He’ll ask Allura maybe. Or just wear a scarf or something. Not that he wants to hide it. He likes looking in the mirror and remembering the way Shiro’s mouth suckled against his skin so beautifully to create it in the first place. He likes knowing it’s Shiro’s mark on him.

It was what he’d asked for, after all.

“I don’t really care what anyone else thinks,” he says and that in itself certainly isn’t a lie. The light in Shiro’s eyes seem to war between apology and satisfaction but in true Shiro form, it’s the apology that wins out. He leans forward, snagging a soft kiss against Keith’s mouth that Keith is unable to stop himself leaning into.

“Thanks for letting me sleep,” he says when they draw apart. Shiro’s hand finds its way to Keith’s neck, a thumb absently stroking the side of his jaw as he speaks. He turns his face to kiss Shiro’s palm.

“Of course,” Shiro murmurs, eyes soft. “You’re on nights this week, right? You need all the hours you can get.”

“Just in comms,” Keith tells him with a huff.  “Trigel hasn’t cleared me for the field or flight yet so I’m in the comms centre until she does.”

“Maybe you should have taken another week off.”

Keith lifts his shoulders in a loose shrug. “Nah, one of us has to bring home the bacon to pay for this lavish lifestyle,” he says mischievously, giving Shiro a sideways glance.

He’s gratified when Shiro lets out a surprised chuckle. “Okay, like that is it? I’m a kept man suddenly?”

“Well, you still have a few weeks of your contract but after that-“ Keith shrugs again, fighting a smile.

Shiro laughs and leans in to steal a kiss and Keith chases him when he tries to draw back. Shiro’s kisses are a mana from god, they have the ability to transport Keith into another dimension. He wants as much as he can get and that little peck wasn’t nearly enough.

“Oh,” Shiro breathes roughly when Keith abruptly climbs into his lap and straddles him. There’s a mild flash of discomfort as Keith’s well-used body protests but he ignores it in favour of looping his arms around his husband’s neck and drawing him in closer. Instead of another kiss, he bumps their foreheads together gently.

“Thank you… for… uh, before,” he whispers, mildly surprised to hear the crack in his voice as he speaks. He hadn’t realised how desperately he had needed that reaffirmation between them. How much he needed the action of Shiro loving on him as much as he needed all their words and conversations over the past few days. He’s not sure when the physical aspect became as important to him as everything else but it seems to be the same for Shiro as well.

They’re on the same page there at least.

The seemed to be on the same page on a lot of things after this past week and Keith considers for not the first time how strange it was that getting knocked off his bike and banged up could possibly have been the thing that saved him. That saved them.

Because if he had the chance to really bolt after Iverson had dropped that bombshell, Keith’s still not entirely sure he wouldn’t have run as far as he could in some misguided attempt to get out of Shiro’s way.

And with him gone, Shiro could have taken the offer despite it no longer being where his heart lay, and right now, they could have been sorting out a divorce instead of strengthening what was between them. It was sobering to think that Keith had been so concerned about Shiro growing to resent him if he didn’t go back to the garrison and take the mission to space that he might have gone anyway and resented Keith for not giving him the benefit of a doubt and staying instead.

So many ways it could have all gone, it makes Keith’s head hurt to think about.

He holds these views in his chest now, letting the gratitude wash over him once again. No matter how many years pass, he’ll always feel this gratitude. He’ll always savour this love he shares with Shiro.

“So, you hungry?” Shiro asks after a moment, drawing back and lifting a hand to shift a lock of Keith’s dark hair that’s fallen into his face. He hasn’t bothered to fasten it after waking from his nap and showering, it just hangs against his forehead as usual.

“I could eat,” he says casually but the briefest mention of food is enough to awaken his stomach and a growl sounds before he can think to muddle it. He winces at Shiro’s laughter.

“Guess that’s a yes then. I thought maybe we could head down to the café strip, take a walk and get a bite to eat.”

“Like a date?” Keith raises an eyebrow. His body still hums with warmth from Shiro filling him earlier. “Aren’t you doing things kind of backwards?”

Shiro’s lips twitch. “Am I? Maybe it’s for me.”

Keith’s breath hitches just as he remembers Shiro’s rough request from earlier. He hadn’t forgotten and he has no intention of letting that slip by. “Are you asking me to take you to dinner before you let me get in your pants, Takashi?”

Shiro’s light laugh makes his eyes crinkle. He’s so easy and relaxed it makes Keith grin in gratification. He likes that he’s the reason Shiro has that sparkle in his grey depths. He likes that he can be the one to coax that sound from his husband’s chest.

Amongst others.

“A little wining and dining never hurt.”

It’s Keith’s turn to laugh then and he offers Shiro a quick peck on his lips before slipping off his lap. “Okay, fine, let me get dressed.”

 

* * *

 

The walk to café strip is only a few blocks but Keith hadn’t realised how close their townhouse was to it. He still hadn’t had much of a chance to explore his new neighbourhood but now that he considers it, a well-known and well-liked café strip not too many streets away seems to be expected for this area.

They leave the townhouse just as dusk falls, just as the sky turns electric blue and the streetlamps come to glow muted gold. The grey skies from earlier in the day must have yielded a downpour at some point because the ground is damp and the black tar of the road looks shiny in the wet. Keith takes a deep breath as they trudge down the townhouse stairs, enjoying the fresh, just washed scent in the air the rain has left behind. It makes the pink and purple bougainvillea blooms seem more fragrant than usual as they pass.

“It’s not far,” Shiro tells him when they start to walk down the street. The footpath is lined with trees and they rustle overhead softly. An occasional car slides past but it’s not particularly busy for the time of day it is. “We can walk there in about fifteen minutes.”

“Sounds good,” Keith murmurs, glancing around once then reaching for his husband’s hand. He entwines their fingers together, smiling innocently when Shiro casts him a sideways look and chuckles softly.

“You’re in a good mood tonight.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Keith challenges. “I’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Shiro hums, a smile unmistakable on his lips now. “Happy?” he asks softly and the question is accompanied by a soft squeeze of his hand.

Keith halts him on the path, using their joined hands to tug Shiro down for a kiss. They’re in the open on their street, cars passing and people walking, and he doesn’t care a bit who sees them.  

“More than I ever thought possible,” he murmurs just before he releases Shiro and they resume walking.

At the small restaurant they choose, they’re halfway through their meal when Keith notices a small boy peering over at them from a nearby table. His eyes are wide, laser focused on the smooth metal of Shiro’s arm.

If he was honest with himself, there had been a flicker of mild surprise when Shiro had met him at the door before they left in a snugly fitted short sleeved dress shirt. It hides little, not the broad expanse of his muscled shoulders or the bulge of his biceps, and certainly not the glaring fact that one of his arms is a glorious, hi-tech prosthesis. Combined with well-fitting denim and a spot of gel in his hair that slicks back his white strands, he takes Keith’s breath away utterly and absolutely.

But it’s the way he’s no longer taking pains to downplay his bionic arm that has Keith warming on the inside but he wonders now if the easy way he displays it might backfire.

“Hey,” he whispers, giving Shiro a nudge under the table with his foot. He tilts his head in the little boy’s direction. “Looks like you have an admirer.”

“I do?” Shiro looks up from his steak and glances over at the little boy. Keith finds himself holding his breath and then wonders why he is.

Shiro gives the boy a wide smile and waves with his bionic hand and the flash of silver and black is unmistakable even in the soft lighting of the restaurant.

Keith watches as the boy’s mouth drops open, especially when Shiro’s expression changes into a mock serious expression and he salutes solemnly. The boy blinks, then slowly salutes back before turning back to his meal.

“Cute,” Keith murmurs, strangely relived at Shiro’s small chuckle when the boy turns around.

“You know, I’ve been thinking, maybe I should get Hunk to install some fun features on this thing.” Shiro holds up his bionic hand and stares at it, flexing it once before lowering it again. “Make it glow neon purple or something.”

Keith can’t help the small laugh at the mental image. He gives a small shake of his head and reaches for his drink. “What, like the lights on your car?”

“Hmm, okay maybe not too much like that,” Shiro muses. “There might be other things it could do though. What about a vibrate feature in the fingers?”

Keith almost chokes, slapping a hand over his mouth before he sprays soda across the table.

“Oh,” Shiro laughs then, seemingly delighted by Keith’s reaction. “You like that idea, huh?”

“I don’t-“ Keith’s voice is strangled as his vision snags on those artificial fingers and his body sparks at the knowledges of exactly where they’ve been. On him, in him, around him. Keith _loves_ them.

“Shit,” he swallows. He’s sure his cheeks are burning bright red but he’s too caught up in the potential Shiro dangles in front of him to care. “Could… could he really do that?”

“I have no idea,” Shiro says, trying to keep a straight face and failing hopelessly. His eyes sparkle. Keith doesn’t miss the silent shake of his husband’s shoulders as he huffs out a laugh quietly. “I could ask though.”

Keith stares at the tech, chewing his lip. God, but wouldn’t that be fun, although god knows Shiro can wreck him well enough without any extra aids. Still, he files that notion away for a later date, maybe a few years down the track if heaven forbid, their marriage ever started to feel stale.

The thought of the future leads his mind to another place though and he picks up his fork and concentrates on his meal, lips pursed and eyes averted. There’s a strange pressure in his chest that he doesn’t know what to do with.

“Probably not the best feature to be displaying in front of potential investors or at tech shows though, huh?” he finally says. He pushes a vegetable around on his plate.

“No, probably not,” Shiro agrees easily and he picks up his own fork once again to resume his meal.

The mention of potential investors was a calculated move on Keith’s part. It’s part of the future they were now staring down the barrel of, and as much as Shiro has reassured him, there are still aspects that sit uneasily behind Keith’s breastbone.

He casts a scrupulous glance at his husband across the table, noting once again the choice of shirt.

Between Shiro and Hunk, it would be Shiro who will be at the forefront of their new venture. He will be the face the company, the CEO, the ambassador. He will be the one showing the world the tech and its abilities and privately Keith wonders if Shiro is really ready to endure that kind of attention and scrutiny.

“There’s that thundercloud again,” Shiro says mildly when their plates are cleared away. Keith hadn’t realised he’d lapsed into introspection as they finished eating, but Shiro clearly had.  “You going to tell me what’s got you frowning so hard?”

The waitress stops by their table and Shiro surprises Keith by ordering a dessert for them to share but it’s not until she shuffles away that he takes a deep breath and lets Shiro thread their fingers together on the surface of the table cloth. The white linen feels scratchy under his hand.

Keith’s throat feels dry. “Are you ready for it?”

Shiro raises an eyebrow and Keith struggles to find the right words to elaborate. He ends up tugging his hand back, unable to concentrate with the warmth of Shiro’s contact on his skin. He lays them loosely on the table surface instead and raises his eyes, staring across the table at his husband from under the crop of his hair.

“What are we talking about here?” Shiro asks and there’s nothing but mild interest in his eyes. Keith can see it in his gaze that Shiro has guessed where his thoughts are gone though, turning back to the same subject they’ve been circling for the last few days.

But this… This is something that Keith hasn’t quite been sure how to bring up.

“You’re going to have to relive what happened all over again,” he finally says softly. The restaurant is bustling but they may as well be in their own little bubble for all the attention he pays it. Shiro’s focus is entirely on him, and Keith drops his gaze to Shiro’s bionic hand where it lays against the table. It’s probably not the right place to have this conversation but it’s one that has been weighing on Keith for days and it’s far too heavy to keep carrying around. He’s worried. His chest aches at the thought of Shiro having to replay his past trauma on a loop to sate the curiosity of others. Every protective instinct inside of Keith screams loud at the thought “Every time someone asks about it, you’re going to have to talk about it. And they will ask and you’ll have to tell them. Rooms full of strangers, over and over again. Are you ready for that?”

To his credit, Shiro doesn’t miss a beat.

“Yes,” he says confidently and with a smile that crawls right inside Keith’s chest and grows roots.  “I’m prepared for that. I’ve accepted what happened. I won’t let it have power over me anymore. And this?” Shiro lifts his bionic hand and turns it over, palm up as though in supplication. “This tech is going to be interesting enough that people can see it for what it is. My hope is that they will be less interested in my story and more interested in the abilities I’ve gained _.”_

Keith frowns.  It’s a nice thought, but he’s not convinced. “Yeah, but people can be assholes.”

“Sometimes,” Shiro chuckles and the sound is soft enough that Keith lets Shiro capture his hand again. He pointedly uses his metal hand to thread through Keith’s fingers and Keith presses hard, knowing the little sparks of sensation will be the ones Shiro can feel.

Shiro’s smile tells him he feels every press.

“It will be okay, baby. I know this isn’t going to be easy, but I’m not doing this alone.”

Keith looks up then, meeting his husband’s soft gaze across the table, his own eyes blazing with a promise. “No,” he squeezes again. “You’re not.”

 

* * *

 

Later, once they’ve walked back hand in hand in the dark, Shiro feels warm and buzzed from an extra glass of wine. He lets Keith walk him backwards towards their bed, Keith’s strong hands plucking at the buttons of his shirt and tugging it open. Shiro’s hands are on Keith’s hips, holding onto him and it’s a good thing he is when Keith parts the material and lays his lips against Shiro’s bare chest. His lips are so hot, burning like a brand and Shiro lets out a rough exhale as he tugs one hand up to thread it through Keith’s dark hair.

“Keith,” he murmurs softly, but he doesn’t get to say much else before Keith is stripping them both down. There’s not much finesse and he’s pretty sure he hears the pop of a button coming loose and a rip somewhere but he can’t think much at all when Keith pushes him down onto the sheets and looms over him.

“You’re mine,” Keith tells him in no uncertain terms and something about the fierce way Keith utters those words makes his body shiver pleasantly. Shiro had never really considered himself to be submissive, but under his husband’s hungry touch, sometimes he doesn’t have the choice but to be anything else.

But tonight… Tonight he suspects he may need to find a way to reassure Keith. Because he knows his husband, he knows that for all his quiet nods and murmured agreement, there will still be a part of Keith’s mind that’s still snagged on his worries, like a piece of debris in the rushing floodwater of his emotions that Shiro needs to unhook and kick away before they can both freely move on.

It might be fighting a little dirty but even under Keith, he raises his legs and clamps around him, using the sheer bulk of his much larger body to flip them over until Keith is pinned underneath him.

Keith hisses through his teeth, although in displeasure or approval, Shiro isn’t sure.

“Yours,” he says back firmly to Keith, just before he leans down to snatch a kiss from his lips. They’re soft under his, telling him that that one uttered word was the exact thing that Keith wanted to hear. And yeah, he was. He was Keith’s in every way he could belong to another person and he’s never felt gladder or more content about that fact.

Keith’s hands curl around the back of his neck, blunt fingers digging in. Shiro gasps as the pressure and the movement sends Keith’s mouth trailing along the underside of his jaw. God, but Keith had a strength to him that belied his smaller frame. He was all feline power and forceful motions and it was hard for Shiro not to lose himself in the drag of Keith’s mouth against his throat.

It takes a few beats before he can draw himself back, his mind blown away by just the feel of Keith’s hands on his body and the sound of his breath against his ear.

He manages to grasp one of Keith’s wrists, curling his metal fingers around the delicate bone and pushing it down against the sheets. In the low light of the streetlamps outside their window, Keith’s eyes spark with satisfaction.

“Yeah,” he breathes. His chest rises and falls and shimmers with steadily building sweat.

Shiro gives him a measured look, wondering exactly how he was going to slow Keith down enough to achieve his objective.

“Do you remember what you promised earlier?”

Keith gives him one slow blink, dark hair spread wild across the pillows. Beautiful, so beautiful and all his. Shiro rakes his gaze down him, over the sharp lines of his jaw, over his lean torso, bladed hips and down further, his blood sparking instantly at the sight of his husband already so thick and swollen.

Shiro wants him. Shiro wants him filling him as he rasps against his ear and owns him.

“Yeah,” he answers but there’s a hint of challenge in his tone that leaves Shiro incredulous. His blood roars in his ears.

Keith was going to make him work for it.

The idea sparks behind his eyes and he abruptly releases the grip he has around Keith’s wrist and rolls off, crashing heavily onto the unoccupied side of the bed. Keith raises himself up on his elbows, confusion and a little bit of irritation on his face.

“What are you doing?” he demands but his protest is cut off by Shiro reaching under the pillow and fumbling around. It’s only a moment more before Shiro comes back, once again straddling Keith on the sheets, but this time facing Keith’s toes.  Keith hisses and makes a sound a lot like a growl in the back of his throat when he realises Shiro has his arms pinned under Shiro’s knees and even though he’s about to have an unobstructed view of what Shiro is about to do, he won’t be able to do a damn thing about it.

Shiro smiles slyly to himself and slicks down his hand. His bionic one, and while he’s used it on Keith plenty of times before, he’s not been brave enough to use it on himself yet. Not even when it was new after the crash, still trying to adjust to palming himself with his non-dominant hand and it had been clumsy and frustrating, he hadn’t got this far. His heart rate spikes now at the way it feels when he reaches back behind him and traces a finger down between his cheeks.

“Damnit, Shiro,” Keith mutters. He twists slightly but Shiro is too heavy for him to dislodge.

Shiro lets out a dramatic sigh as he looks over his shoulder. “Looks like I’m going to just take care of myself, huh?”

Keith grunts under him, still trying to flail weakly.

Shiro circles a finger around, cataloguing the way it feels. It’s different to his human hand, to the way Keith’s hands feel, but it’s pleasurable in a way he didn’t expect too. He braces himself a little better and arches his back, half twisting to catch Keith’s eye as he probes gently.

Keith’s feeble twisting under him goes still. “Holy hell,” he whispers.

“Hmm,” Shiro probes a little further. It’s been a little while since he’s been in this position, he’s tight and there’s enough resistance that the tech of his arm fires enough signals into his brain that it takes him a brief second to sort through the feedback. With his other hand, he does his best to spread his cheeks, making sure that Keith can get the best visual.

It makes his heart race to be so exposed and on display like this, and it’s not something he’s ever attempted since the protype fell out of the sky in that storm let alone when he was still whole but he feels like he can now. Keith’s given him the courage to own this, and he plans to. In every way.

He can feel the increasing rise and fall of Keith’s breathing under him, soft pants falling from his lips as Shiro works himself open.

“Fuck,” Keith whines after a moment. “That’s so fucking hot.”

Shiro has to bite back the purr of satisfaction but it distracts him enough that he loosens his clamp on Keith and suddenly Keith is tugging his hands away and shifting and Shiro finds himself toppled onto his back, Keith looming over him.

“I want to help.”

“Oh,” Shiro laughs breathlessly. “ _Now_ you want to help.”

Keith growls again in mock annoyance and shoves Shiro’s knees up and out of his way. Shiro is splayed open, chest heaving as Keith snatches Shiro’s bionic hand and guides it back down between his legs. Shiro’s breath hitches under his husband’s dark gaze and can’t do anything but let Keith lead him how he wants.

“Yeah,” Keith murmurs, voice hoarse.  Shiro recognises the way he says that, the gasped out approval that tells Shiro he’s so hard he’s almost panting. He smiles to himself and delves a bit deeper for a little bit longer, savouring the shiver that rolls over his skin at the stretch.

“Does it feel good?” Keith asks him. Keith’s hot breath skitters over Shiro’s groin, over the part of him that is starting to feel impossibly hard. He keens a little when he feels Keith’s hand curl around it, slick and warm. Jesus Christ but it’s too much.

“Baby,” he warns hotly and it’s all he can do not to bat Keith’s hand away. “It’s going to be over before I have you in me if you keep that up.”

“Maybe I want that,” Keith murmurs. His voice sounds almost muffled and Shiro cracks open an eye to see his lips hovering dangerously close to his tip. His lips already look wet and shiny and his eyes are dark with promise. “Maybe I want you coming so many times you forget your own name.”

Shiro’s hiss is searing. He almost pulls his hand away from himself but Keith grabs his wrist. “Another one,” he commands softly and yeah, that’s the exact right pitch that goes straight to Shiro’s gut and it’s utterly impossible to ignore.

Keith hums in satisfaction as Shiro obeys, pushing in another digit and oh god, that’s good. A wordless moan falls from his lips.

“Takashi,” Keith whispers and his hot breath skitters across his belly. Shiro fumbles along the sheet, searching for Keith with his spare hand with the intention of hauling him up for a kiss. He misses their kisses in moments like this but then Keith’s mouth closes around him and a third finger is guided inside him and he almost arches off the bed when the realises it’s Keith’s.

_“Keith! Fuck! Oh, oh god, oh yes-“_

He loses himself completely for a moment, before he can’t maintain the reach and he has to pull his hand away. It ends up snaking up the bed instead, reaching behind him to grab a hold of the headboard. Keith’s fingers slide into the space his had occupied and Shiro huffs and shivers against the stretch as Keith works him, both with his mouth and his hands and Shiro’s head falls back, panting out his breaths as starbursts appear behind his eyelids.

“Keith,” he hears himself moan and he almost doesn’t recognize the sound of his own voice. It’s so rough and needy, almost a pathetic whimper but it achieves what it needs to when Keith pulls back and there’s a split second of cool air ghosting over him and he feels suddenly empty.

It’s not for long when Keith falls over him, his mouth claiming Shiro’s hungrily and Shiro doesn’t hesitate to open his mouth, inviting the press of Keith’s tongue inside, something sparking in him and setting him a little bit alight when he remembers where Keith’s mouth has just been.

“Are you ready for me?” Keith whispers against his cheek before drawing back. He kneels between Shiro’s spread thighs, reaching down to drag his fingers along Shiro’s tense thighs.

“Yes,” Shiro pants and he struggles to open his eyes. Holy shit, how did he lose control of this so quickly? Of himself? He feels so strung out he’s not sure Keith will have to do more than touch him before he shatters. “Please, Keith.”

There’s a press of Keith’s lips against one side of his hips and the bed under his legs dips slightly. Shiro sucks in a breath, his heartbeat galloping wildly with anticipation of that initial press, of that burn he knows he’s going to feel, that he’s going to savour. He forces his eyes open, trying to peer through the sweaty strands that come loose across his face, his chest heaving. Keith watches him with wide violet eyes, impossibly dusky and steady and full of love. 

Shiro whispers into the pause. “Please, baby.”

Keith doesn’t hesitate any longer and it’s only a slice of a moment before Keith’s heat is pressing against his entrance. Keith falls over him, catching himself with one hand, guiding himself with the other. His forehead presses against Shiro’s chest, his hair dragging along the slicked sweat there and then Shiro sighs his husband’s name and bears down and Keith breeches him with the tiniest of moans and shaky limbs.

And it’s bliss.

“God, Keith,” he sighs, waiting for more, craving more. The yearning inside him is almost unbearable, he hasn’t wanted anything so badly as he does in this moment. It’s all he can do to keep his hands where they are instead of landing them on Keith’s ass and just seizing him deep. His whole body quivers with the strain and Keith pants and shudders against his chest and nips at his neck until finally, blessedly, he jolts and thrusts all the way in until he’s buried impossibly deep and Shiro feels full.

He all but sighs in satisfaction and soon the haze clears and he comes back to himself.

“Shiro,” Keith murmurs and his voice sounds pained. Shiro unhooks his hands from the headboard and glides them over Keith’s back. He’s damp with sweat and his hair is a mess, but when he looks up from Shiro’s chest, Shiro’s breath catches painfully at the back of his throat.

There’s that intensity again. That fierce devotion that blazes there that makes Shiro truly understand what it’s like to be so loved and adored and admired. Keith makes him feel like he could conquer the universe, but Shiro would settle for the planet their boots tread instead.

“Love me,” he whispers hoarsely and it’s exactly the right thing to spur Keith into action.

Keith rears up, planting his knees on the bed and grasping Shiro’s heavy thighs. Keith’s hidden strength comes into play again when he hauls Shiro towards him on the bed and throws one of Shiro’s leg’s up over his shoulder.

“Gonna take you so good,” Keith mutters roughly. One hand grips tightly to Shiro’s knee, holding him securely in place. It feels good. So good. He lets himself surrender to Keith’s strength and half wonders what answers he gave in the interview processes that told the scientists this is what he wanted when he hadn’t even realised he did.

“Keith,” he grits out, surprised but utterly thrilled by the ferocity of the way Keith starts to snap his hips. Keith’s brows furrow in concentration as he works at keeping his pace steady. Shiro reaches down and offers a few short tugs of himself in relief, he’s hard to bursting, tight and so filled he’s unable to do anything but close his eyes and hold on.

The hard pace Keith sets eases off after a moment, and just in time too because Shiro was sure he was skirting too close to the edge. And he wants this to last all night. He wants Keith to use him all night.

As it happens, Keith pulls back and Shiro can’t contain the whimper at his loss. He immediately misses it, the fullness, the knowledge that it’s Keith working him over so well. Keith’s commands are hard to make out, his voice is so breathless and Shiro’s blood is singing too loudly in his ears but Keith’s hands are enough to guide him. He finds himself flipped onto his stomach, hips yanked up and then Keith is filling him once again but this time his hands are on Shiro’s shoulders and the drive into his body is long and measured and slow in a way he would never have expected his fiery, impulsive husband to be able to manage.

He can’t do anything but drool into his pillow and pant out his husband’s name at the slow drag.

Keith leans over him, mouthing and dragging his teeth over the heated skin on Shiro’s shoulder. He whispers a low chant, something that takes Shiro a moment to understand what he’s saying and then keening his pleasure when he does.

 _Mine, mine, mine_.

“Yes,” he whimpers back but it’s cut off by Keith gradually increasing his pace. There’s one particularly hard slam of Keith into his body and Jesus Christ, he’s never been taken by this kind of strength before. He wants to lose himself in it, but a part of him wants to fight back against it too.

Keith comes in to kiss him again and Shiro arches back, desperately seeking his mouth. He needs Keith to kiss him. He needs to suck on his tongue as Keith possesses him, he needs the squeeze of Keith’s arms around his chest, tight like a metal band but abruptly Keith slows and stills once again and it’s only their mouths moving against each other between ragged breaths that fill the room.

“I love you,” Keith whispers into his lips. It’s so tender it makes Shiro’s body weak and he trembles. Keith holds him with arms clasped around his torso and his lips pressed to the sensitive space behind his ear. He doesn’t move, not for a long minute and there’s no sounds but for their ragged breathing. “I love you so much.”

The soft words against his skin make him sigh once then he gently nudges Keith back. The tiny reprieve brought him back to himself and he doesn’t whimper when Keith slips out of him. Shiro pushes him towards the sheets this time, letting Keith get comfortable against the pillows before Shiro swings a leg over and settles down, gliding down Keith’s length in one smooth motion.

He watches Keith’s raven hued eyelashes flutter against his cheek and his mouth part in a soft O as he sinks.

“Fuck,” Keith mumbles. He bites his lip with pale white teeth until its scarlet pink and Shiro leans forward to kiss away the colour. “I want to see your face when you come,” Keith tells him earnestly when he pulls back.

“That’s going to be sooner than you might think,” Shiro manages to gasp. He’s so tight, the pooling in his gut intensifies. He rocks himself on Keith and the angle he finds makes him suddenly spark and see stars and god, he’s so close he’s ready to fall apart.

Keith’s eyes are dark again. “Can you come for me, Takashi?”

Shiro starts to move, savouring the grind and searching again for that perfect angle. Keith helps him with one hand on his hip, the other pressed into the centre of his chest, softly murmuring encouragement as he forces Shiro’s back to a decadent arch that makes his muscles ripple in a way that has Keith hissing in appreciation. It turns out that’s all he needs before he’s shooting white ribbons across Keith’s chest untouched.

 _“Ahh,”_ he shudders, lettings the pulse bloom under his skin and fill his mind with white static and as his tremors subside, he blinks and gasps and marvels at the perfect way they fit together that Keith can rock him to orgasm without even curling a hand around him.

A few strokes of his oversensitive body that still feels so good even when it shouldn’t and Keith follows him, flooding him with a heat that dribbles out when the shudders stop and Keith wraps his arms around Shiro’s shoulders to pull him down into the sheets. They’ve made a mess again and the air smells sharp but he ignores all of it in favour of pulling Keith against his chest and burying his face in the sweat slicked strands.

“I love you,” Shiro says, his voice only a whisper. He seems incapable to being able to say anything more, his whole body loose and languid and Keith wriggles enough that Shiro soon finds his feet dangling off the edge of the bed and his head securely cradled against Keith’s chest and oh, he gets to be the little spoon tonight. It’s strange to realise how much he enjoys how Keith holds him, like he’s something small and in need of protecting and Keith is his ferocious guardian ready to strike down anyone who comes too close.

After trying to be so strong for so long, it’s nice to be able to let himself be weak. To let himself sink into that protection.

“Sleep,” Keith murmurs, the word barely more than a simple hum. His fingers walk a path absently along Shiro’s spine before dragging back down and starting their journey all over again. It’s so soothing Shiro feels like he’s dozing.

“Messy,” Shiro hears himself mumble but the sound comes from far away. Did he say that? He’s not even sure. All he can hear is the beat of Keith’s heart against his ear, a steady, soothing beat that lulls him like a song into somewhere quiet and still.

 

* * *

 

There is a line of protesters outside the first checkpoint when Shiro arrives at the garrison base a few days later.

He’s not late, but his usual workout has been skipped in favour of stealing some extra time with his husband before Keith finally collapses into bed after his long night shift so he’s chucked his gym bag into the backseat with the intention of stopping on the way home instead. It works better when Keith’s on nights for Shiro to stay out of the townhouse as long as he can, Keith’s sleep gets too interrupted by his presence, despite his silent creeping and Keith’s vehement assurances that Shiro doesn’t need to stay away.

Shiro doesn’t really mind. It will give him a few extra hours to log in the simulators while he still has a chance. It’s going to be strange not having access to them when his contract finishes up and he has it in his head to master helicopter flight while he still has the chance. Something to keep under his hat and surprise Keith with later, providing he’s not terrible at it.

Keith was right, there was a hell of a difference from the garrison jets and an entirely new set of skills needed and the regard Shiro has for his husband’s piloting skills ratchet up another notch.

He nudges the car past the protesters after he swipes his pass and the boom gates open. A garrison guard steps out and eyeballs the handful of people, ensuring they don’t try to sneak through. It’s been a while since Shiro has seen them gathered around at this base. They rattle their signs ominously in his direction as he passes but he doesn’t look at the words or at their faces, trying to ignore the unease in his gut their presence brings.

At the flight training centre, he walks down the hallways to his office, his satchel slung over his shoulder and nodding a greeting to cadets as he passes.  It’s odd to think that once he thought he’d spend his life here and now he was counting down until the year finishes up, until the current crop of cadets graduate and he’ll walk away from the garrison forever.

As usual, he waits for the pang of regret or panic to spring up inside him at the thought of a new direction but as usual, there is none. He won’t miss this place. Some of the cadets, maybe, but not this place.

“Shiro,” a voice calls out from behind him.

Shiro pauses and stands to the side as a gaggle of cadets trudge past. Various greetings of _hi LT!_ make his lips twitch in a smile but that smile slips when the officer behind them catches Shiro’s eye.

“Adam,” Shiro greets the officer with a nod, a familiar flutter of disquiet in his gut whenever he falls into Adam’s presence. It didn’t make a lot of sense to feel that way, Shiro has known Adam since they were cadets themselves and at one point they had been flight partners verging on something more before his crash.

Unlike Shiro, Adam has already completed a few rotations out in the black.

“What’s up?” Shiro asks him. He strives for casualness.

“Have you got a second?”

“Sure,” Shiro responds easily. “Just heading to my office before classes start now.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

Adam falls into step beside him and they walk the short distance towards Shiro’s office without exchanging any more words. Shiro assumes Adam needs to speak to him about one of his cadets since Adam had run the sims with them over the past week instead of Shiro. 

“Thanks again for covering for me last week,” Shiro says as Adam follows him into his office. Shiro drops his satchel onto his desk just in time to see Adam shut the door to close off the outside world. Shiro frowns at the action and that deepens when he notices the tense expression on Adam’s face.

Adam leans against the back of the door, arms folded across his chest. He stares at his boots with a frown that’s a lot deeper than the one Shiro currently wears.

“So, is it true?” Adam asks quietly after a long, awkward moment of silence.

“Is what true?”

“That you’re leaving the garrison?”

Shiro leans against his desk and crosses his arms warily. “At the end of this year when my contract finishes up… yes.”

Adam looks up then, hazel eyes intense behind his glasses. “And you’re just… you’re just going to throw it all away? Everything you’ve worked for, all your progress?”

Shiro has to work hard to stop the flinch from showing.

Is this what they thought he was doing? That thought rankles as much as it causes a stab of guilt to flare up inside him. There had been a lot of people who stood by him after the crash, as many as who didn’t. People like Commander Holt, and Matt and Pidge and Hunk and even Colleen. All people with ties to the garrison and gold stripes on their shoulders.

“That’s not really how I see it,” he manages to say with a calmness that belies his unease. “But you’re entitled to your opinion.”

Adam holds his gaze for a moment, staring at him like he’s searching for something. It’s uncomfortable enough that Shiro drops his arms abruptly and turns around, accidently knocking the small frame near his monitor and it falls to the carpet with a dull thud.

Adam reaches for it at the same time he does and Shiro doesn’t miss the way Adam’s lip curls when his fingers coil around the frame and he stands up. Shiro straightens and he finds himself face to face with Adam holding the frame in his hands just beyond Shiro’s reach.

The frame that holds the moving image of Keith and himself on their wedding day.

He had brought it in in the days following Keith’s accident in a fit of sentimentality but he liked being able to glance at it as he worked, warm with the knowledge of his life outside these grey drab walls was waiting for him.

Seeing the frame in Adam’s hands doesn’t feel right. It makes an itch at the back of his mind form and he has to resist the urge to snatch it back when Adam looks down at it and his mouth twists further with a faint hint of unpleasantness.

“He must really be something special to be worth throwing away all away for,” Adam says mildly, in a tone that mimics pleasantness but stings with an undercurrent of something ugly and vicious.

“He is,” Shiro says calmly, extracting the frame from out of Adam’s hands and turning to place it securely back onto his desk. “But he’s not the reason why I’m leaving.”

Adam’s silence screams his incredulity.

“You know, I heard about your wedding,” he says casually then, like they’re just hanging out at the water cooler and talking idly about their weekend. The distinct shift in his tone almost gives Shiro whiplash. “I busted one of the cadets gossiping about it. About how you only met at the ceremony, that it’s just some kind of social experiment.”

Shiro’s heartrate spikes instantly. “It may have started that way, but let me assure you, it’s very much a real marriage.”

“Is it? Surely it can’t be legal.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because,” Adam stares at him. “Because you didn’t even know who this guy was and you married him after a few seconds on meeting him. Did you even know his name?”

“I fail to see how any of this is any of your business, Adam.”

Adam shakes his head mournfully. “Takashi, what are you even doing with your life?”

The sound of that name from Adam’s lips sets Shiro’s blood supernova. It roils with fury and his voice becomes cold and dangerously quiet.

“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that.”

No, because that name belongs to the version of himself before he fell out of the sky, before he had lost a limb and fell into somewhere dark it had taken him years to fight his way free of. And the only person he wants to hear that name from now is his husband, from _Keith,_ because Keith doesn’t throw it back at him like some kind of condescending insult.

Shiro lifts his chin, digging deep into his reserves for a calmness he’s not sure exists when it comes to mentions of his husband, of his marriage. It was the best thing in his life and every instinct inside him snarls at him to close ranks and defend it with everything he has.

“Furthermore, what I do in my private life is not up for discussion with you or anyone else. I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“Taka- Shiro,” Adam holds up his hands placatingly. “I only have your best interests at heart. I’m only looking out for you-”

“I don’t need you to look out for me, Adam. We were flight partners once, and we’re colleagues now, but don’t mistake that for the idea you get a say in anything I choose to do in my personal life.”

“I thought we were friends?” Adam challenges but then he sighs, once again back into that easy tone. “I can’t tell you how surprised I was to hear that you got married. I didn’t even know you had been dating after….” Adam gestures vaguely. Shiro doesn’t need him to clarify that he means Shiro’s injuries. “But then I heard the cadets talking and it suddenly made sense. A few weeks ago at the open day, you got back in the cockpit, you were back up there and now you’re walking away? I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to understand, Adam. This has nothing to do with you.”

“I just hate to see you waste your potential. And what about all the things we talked about?”

“Jesus Christ, Adam,” Shiro shakes his head incredulously. “I’m not that person anymore. You don’t go through something like that and just…”

_Fuck it._

Shiro moves away, stalking around the desk and flipping open his satchel. He doesn’t owe Adam anything and he’s tired of defending himself. He’s tired of the expectation that he’s still the same person he was the day he walked out onto the tarmac, Sam and Matt beside him, laughing as the wind ruffled their hair and joking about how it would just be a quick zip around the skies and they would be home just in time for dinner.

He’s tired of trying to shove down his trauma in front of the cadets, spouting encouragement and kindness in an attempt to show that hey, you might fly, you might crash, your name might get dragged through the mud and the words _pilot error_ might flash up in neons over your head but you too can redeem yourself. You too can continue to live in the shadow of what you used to be.

“We’re done here,” Shiro says without looking up. An unexpected bitterness sits on his tongue. “You can leave the door open on your way out.”

Adam hovers for a long moment. Shiro concentrates on his tablet, skimming through the tasks he needs to complete for the day ahead and pointedly ignoring him.

“So that’s it? I can’t change your mind?”

Shiro’s gaze flickers over his wedding photo, the day his life changed in more ways than he could ever possibly imagine. The day he finally let himself live again. 

“Goodbye, Adam.”

 

* * *

 

It’s already dark by the time Shiro gets home and he’s just in time to see Keith in his uniform, standing in the kitchen with a mug of coffee in his hands as he reads the news on his phone. Shiro feels wiped after his long day at the garrison, still faintly furious over his interaction with Adam enough that even punching it out on the bags at the gym didn’t really help. He’s sure he has bags under his eyes and he’s more than keen for an early night but in contrast, Keith can only be described as bright eyed and bushy tailed.

He doesn’t hesitate to dump his gym bag on the kitchen floor and wrap his arms around Keith’s waist, silently thanking himself for ensuring he showered at the gym so that there’s no excuse for Keith to escape his arms right now.

“Whoa,” Keith laughs as Shiro squeezes him. “Hot coffee over here.”

“Put it down,” Shiro mumbles, burying his face into the crook of Keith’s neck. He’s warm and smooth and smells like the soap they use in the shower. His hair is faintly damp, obviously having been washed not long ago, and under it all, the hint of strawberries. Shiro takes in a deep breath.

He smells like home and immediately the lingering tension that corded his muscles fades and drops away.

“Bad day?” Keith asks quietly after he places his mug down. He turns in Shiro’s arms and loops one arm around the back of his neck, raising his other hand to cup the side of Shiro’s jaw. There’s a soft flutter against his skin as Keith smooths his thumb over Shiro’s cheekbone gently.

Was it bad? Not really. Aside from the weird meeting with Adam, it wasn’t a day any different to hundreds of others he’d endured before. Classes, simulator runs, more classes, more runs… it was all the same but his heart just wasn’t in it anymore.

“I wouldn’t say that. There’s just somewhere else I would have much rather been. With someone else.”

“Oh, yeah?” Keith murmurs, lip twitching. Keith’s thumb tracks lower, brushing over Shiro’s bottom lip. “That’s a lucky someone.”

Shiro lowers his head and Keith leans in to meet him, a brush of their lips that tastes faintly of coffee and mint. It reminds him again that Keith won’t be sleeping there beside him again tonight. It’s an effort to push aside the disappointment. There’s been plenty of nights he’s slept alone, this shouldn’t be any different.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Keith asks when they draw apart. Shiro pauses just to take in the shifting indigo hue of his pupils. Beautiful eyes that hold a beautiful soul. He feels calmer just staring into them, letting himself fall into a space he knows he’s welcomed. It’s home, and it’s peace and it’s _right._

“Yeah,” he smiles, almost surprised to realise he means it. “Better now. What about you? Did you get enough sleep?”

Keith gives him a small roll of his eyes. “Yes, for the most part. How long has Black been a snorer?”

“What?” Shiro blinks. “He doesn’t snore.”

“Uh, yeah he does. Loudly. I thought there was someone creeping around in the house-“

“You didn’t pull a knife on him, did you?”

Keith levels him a flat look at the comment but the effect is ruined by the way his lips twitch slightly.

“You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”

Shiro laughs and resists the urge to thread a hand through Keith’s hair. He’s tied it back in readiness for his shift and Shiro knows Keith will grumble at him if he tugs the strands free now. “When the cleaning lady interrupted us getting hot and heavy and your first instinct was to pull out a kitchen knife? Not a chance.”

Keith’s expression shifts comically between indignation and mortification. “It could have been a burglar, Shiro. We might have been _attacked_ and neither of us had any pants on.”

“Poor Plaxum, you scared the hell out of her. Nice to know that you’ll be there to protect me from any vicious vacuum cleaners or mops though.”

Keith’s eyes narrow as Shiro clasps his hands over his chest and pitches his voice as high as he can.  “My hero.”

“God, _shut up,”_ Keith mutters, turning around to reach for his mug of coffee once again and leaving Shiro to laugh quietly to himself.

Shiro helps himself to a bottle of water from the fridge and takes a drink before he leans back against the other side of the counter. “So how long until you have to go?”

Keith checks the digital interface on the wall. “I’ve got about twenty minutes before I have to leave.”

Shiro’s good mood falters. He had been hoping for a little longer than that to bask in his husband’s company. “Is that all?”

“Yeah,” Keith says with a rueful shrug. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Shiro waves his hand dismissively. He’s not about to make Keith feel guilty for having to go to work. “Do you need the keys to the car?”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m starting earlier but I’ll be finished earlier too.”

“Sure,” Shiro teases. He knows the validity of that statement is as mercurial as the weather. “Don’t sweat it if you can’t though. I can get a lift with Pidge if I need to.”

“Okay,” Keith murmurs but he worries at his lip and Shiro knows he’s thinking about his bike. Eventually Shiro knows he’ll replace it, but neither of them seem to be in a rush to do so and Shiro certainly wasn’t about to push it.

“Hey, so, we still have about twenty minutes, right? Want to come make out with me until you have to go?”

Keith laughs at Shiro’s hopeful expression. “Can you be trusted? I don’t have any spare uniforms at the ready today.”

“I’m talking about kissing and nothing more,” Shiro says with mock sternness. “I’m not sure where your mind is going, Casanova.”

Keith snorts ungracefully at the nickname but he dumps his mug into the sink and crosses the small space of their kitchen anyway. “Casanova,” he mutters in amusement.  “That’s a new one.”

Shiro reaches behind him and drops the water bottle on the counter, freeing his hands in order to reach for the loops on Keith’s belt and reel him in close.

“Don’t mess my hair,” Keith warns him.

“God, when did you become so precious about your hair?”

“Since I just washed it and tied it back and I couldn’t be bothered to do it again.”

“Why is it so long anyway?” Shiro asks curiously. “Not that I’m complaining in any way, shape or form. You know I like my hands in it.”

“Yeah,” Keith gives him a sideways glance. “I do.”

Shiro grins, reaching up to tug a strand around his finger. It’s so dark, almost black. Even his hair isn’t that dark.

Keith raises an eyebrow. “You going to play with my hair or are you going to kiss me, old timer?”

“Okay, see, now that’s just rude,” he laughs but Keith laughs along with him and then suddenly Keith is kissing him, pushing back slightly until Shiro has to brace himself against the counter. His hands drift to Keith’s hips, trying to find the narrow space but hindered by the pouches on his utility belt. He slides his hand down lower instead, sliding them into the back pockets of Keith’s pants even as he traces the seam of Keith’s lips with his tongue.

There’s a small nip of Keith’s teeth against his bottom lip in warning when his hands curl too far on his ass. “Hands off,” Keith warns him huskily and Shiro grumbles in protest.

“Okay, fine. Get out of here. Go save some lives, I’ll just be here dreaming of the next time I can get you naked again.”

Keith steps back, putting some space between them and adjusting his navy blue uniform, smoothing hands over his thighs and retucking in his shirt that Shiro’s unwittingly dislodged. On his shoulders, his epaulettes display a Caduceus and a gold bar, a symbol of what he’s worked hard to achieve and Shiro can’t resist the urge to reach out and capture Keith’s chin, stealing one more chaste kiss before he goes.

Keith pulls back regretfully. “I gotta go.”

“I know,” Shiro says softly. He releases Keith and steps back. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Keith answers. There’s a final kiss, just a peck on his cheek before Keith rummages for the keys and then he’s disappearing through the internal door and down the stairs. Shiro listens for the rumble of the garage door and the engine and then there’s nothing but silence around him.

It’s strange how abruptly empty the townhouse feels without him, he thinks. Even when Black shows up to curl around his ankles, it doesn’t feel quite right. It’s empty without the warmth of Keith’s presence filling it. How did he ever live here before? Without Keith? Shiro can hardly even remember it even though it had been years.

He shakes off the sudden downturn of his thoughts and forces himself to stretch. It’s late now and he goes about his nightly ritual of putting down fresh water for Black and few bits of kibble, kicks off the dishwasher and wipes down the counter. He flips the lights off and heads upstairs under the glow of his phone and it’s not until he’s changed into his sleep clothes that he notices it - a piece of paper shaped into a paper plane on his pillow that Shiro unfolds to find one of Keith’s quick sketches, a bungalow on the beach, a palm tree, the ocean and a hammock. There’s one sentence in Keith’s unmistakable hand.

_We should go back sometime._

Shiro can’t help the smile that splits his face and he takes a seat on the edge of the bed to tap out a message on his phone.

_We definitely should._

Barely a moment later his phone pings.

_:) sleep well xx <3 u always_

He smiles at the response, knowing Keith must have typed it out quickly in between tasks and he crawls under the sheets, tugging Keith’s pillow close and taking comfort in his scent, barely remembering to flick off the light to settle the room in darkness.

Maybe, soon, when everything settles down, they will go back to that island bungalow from their honeymoon.

Maybe by then, Hunk will have upgraded his tech and Shiro will be able to float in the ocean with Keith in his arms once again. Nothing but the ocean around them, the stars in the sky above them, the two of them bound together on the horizon.

He falls asleep at the thought.


	61. just imagine it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: brief mention of trauma, vehicular accidents, Keith work stuff
> 
> also thanks to the mafs rp that’s happening on twitter, I love it so much and a small part of this chap is inspired by stuff happening there

Back at work, Keith hits the ground running.

The call outs end up being back to back, blessedly sweet to start with of a young mother in an isolated area beyond the city giving birth at home all alone. By the time they’d landed, they were been greeted by a baby’s bellowing cries. Both mum and baby were in fine form for their ordeal but the team transports them to the local hospital as a precaution anyway. Keith manages to snap a photo of Lance holding the tiny bundle in his arms, grinning broadly in the helicopter’s belly moments before they file out onto the hospital’s helipad.

From there, they don’t get a chance to rest, flying back to back missions all over the city and beyond.  One job has them beating out over the water to a large cargo freighter to attend to a crew that spoke little English. Lance had taken the lead on that one, his fluent Spanish proving to be the bridge between them understanding and an all-out brawl when Keith got frustrated over the sheer amount of time it was all taking.

After that, it was back to the mainland for a simple inter-hospital transfer, then it was all speed back towards the coastline and it had been a shaky, dangerous set down in the middle of a dimly lit, debris strewn highway. A bus carrying a full load of tourists had rolled on the bend just thirty minutes before their shift was due to draw to a close.

That one was by far the worse.

Glass crunches under his boots as soft rain starts to drizzle. It catches the strobe lights of the bevy of emergency vehicles, sending slivers of jaggered colour along the black bitumen of the roads surface and in the distance, Keith catches the faintest hint of the ocean where it rolls and churns beyond the cliffs. It was a known area for accidents but it was the first time they’d been called to one so brutal and even with the hint of salt in the air, it’s not enough to hide the arid scent of oil and fuel leaking over the road.

And someone, somewhere, is crying.

It’s hard to look at. The bus lies on its side, its roof ripped open and interior spilled like the innards of dying animal. Lance catches his eye then looks away, his jaw tight and rigid and his hands shaking slightly where they hold up the plastic sheet. Beside them, the fire and emergency crew are slicing into the wreckage. There’s no urgency now though, and Keith’s gut churns as he wonders why a medivac was called when there was no one left to transport.

The rain trickles down, staining his cheeks and dampening his hair until it lies flat against his skull. It’s not nearly enough to be cleansing.

Another team arrives to take over and Lance nudges him, the small radio attached to his epaulettes sparking to life with an order to return to base. They collect their gear and the rest of their team and go and it’s a long ride back to HQ to handover to a fresh team.

“You need a lift home, man?” Lance asks him as they stash their flight jackets and helmets back into their lockers after they’ve washed away the blood. Lance looks stressed and harried in a way that makes Keith hope Allura is nearby.

“Nah, I’m good. Got the beast.”

Lance gives him a watery smile at that. There’s a false enthusiasm in his voice. “Shiro’s car? That thing is wild. Think he’ll let me take it for a spin one day?”

Keith forces a chuckle. “Maybe if you ask nicely.”

Lance’s answering grin is tired. “Alright, well, see you round, mullet.”

“Yeah, see you.”

Back home, Keith lets himself into the townhouse with quiet steps. It’s dark in the kitchen but in the living space, the lamp in the corner glows dimly with enough light to illuminate Keith’s way… and Black curled up right in the centre of the couch.

Keith slumps into the armchair and pulls off his boots before dumping them in the hall robe so they won’t be a trip hazard. He eyes the stairs tiredly then realises he doesn’t have the energy to face them right now. He slumps onto the couch beside Black instead.

He’s tired and still trying to force down the vague churning of his stomach.

He loses track of how long he sits there, even when Black pulls himself upright with a long limbered stretch. He pads over Keith’s thighs, his white paws digging slightly into Keith’s jeans but Keith ignores it in favour of Black rubbing his face against Keith’s jaw.

“Hey Black, thanks for the welcome.”

Black bumps his head against Keith’s one more time, a low rumbling purr echoing in his chest before he hops down onto the floor and wanders into the kitchen. A beat passes and Keith catches the faintest sounds of kibble being crunched.

“Keith?”

His eyelids are drooping shut when he hears it, imagining that he’s hallucinated his husband’s voice in his exhaustion but then a warm hand comes to rest heavy against his shoulder and he’s brought back to the moment with a thud.

He forces himself to come awake fully and tries to swallow. 

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely. His throat is dry. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” Shiro says. He’s shirtless, in only a pair of black boxers and bare feet, the way he usually sleeps, but he doesn’t look like he’s just woken up. Something about that makes Keith frown. The last time he looked at the clock it was about 3am. “I was reading.” 

There’s a shift of the air around him then Shiro is crouched down in front of him. They’re almost at eye level although Shiro crouches enough that he needs to look up into Keith’s face. It feels strange to be gazing down at Shiro rather than up. God, but he’s so beautiful, Keith thinks. He really lucked out when the scientists running the experiment chose this man for him. 

He’s still not sure he deserves him.

“Hey,” Shiro says softly, the expression in his eyes soft and verging on the edge of worry. Keith doesn’t want to make him worry, so he forces himself to blink and suck in a deep breath.

Shiro lays his warm palm on Keith’s knee and in that moment, he’s glad he thought to shower and change out of his bloodstained uniform back at HQ.

“You look like you’ve had a hell of a night.”

Keith huffs out something that he wants to be a rueful chuckle. “You could say that.”

Shiro tilts his head and his hand lifts away from his knee to find a new home against his cheek.  “Are you alright?”

Was he? He’s not sure. He’s been to call outs like that before. He’s seen worse ones, but somehow tonight it sits too close to the surface of his psyche, too close to home. He’s not sure if it’s because his walls have become weak since his marriage, if the protective shell he wore so tightly around himself has become brittle under the simple desire to just let go and be happy, to let love in and let it shine out in turn. He feels more vulnerable than he ever has and without thinking, he turns his face and leans into the touch of Shiro’s palm against his face.

There’s so much in that simple touch that anchors him. So much about that touch that reminds him that despite the ugliness playing on a loop behind his eyes, there’s beauty right here in front of him. Beauty in the way Shiro looks at him and treasures him and a small part of him is scared to let himself become too reliant on that in case one day it might not be there.

But this is Shiro, his husband that loves him and the crack in his armour gets too wide for him to hold together right now. A breath shudders out of his chest and he sags, weak in a way that has more to do than the physical, weak in a way that meant he was giving too much of himself and that perhaps maybe he had been for a long time.

“You were at that crash on the highway up the coast, weren’t you?”

Keith frowns. “How… how did you know?”

“It was all over the news. God, I can’t imagine what you saw-“

Shiro must see the way Keith’s face twists because he quickly cuts off his trail of thought. Keith doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want that horror here, inside these four walls. He wants to keep it as far away from Shiro, from their love, as much as he can.

He doesn’t realise his cheeks are wet until Shiro wipes them with the pad of his thumb.

“You’re home now, baby,” Shiro says gently. He cups Keith’s face and leans in to lay a long, grounding kiss against Keith’s lips. With that simple press, the residual adrenaline and negative emotions fall off him, stripping away under the warmth of that contact. Keith presses in harder, seeking more, and Shiro doesn’t disappoint him.

He doesn’t realise how tightly he’s gripping Shiro’s biceps until the metal of Shiro’s bionic arm refuses to give any more under his fingers and he lets go with a small gasp. His heart flutters uncomfortably in his chest.

“Shiro,” he whispers. “Don’t let me go.”

“I won’t,” Shiro promises him. There’s no storm in his eyes now, just a calm deep silver glow. “Not ever.”

He doesn’t remember Shiro leading him up the stairs. He doesn’t remember Shiro undressing him, tugging the shirt off his back and peeling his pants down his thighs. He doesn’t remember Shiro drawing him down onto the bed and curling over him protectively but he remembers the deep sigh that Shiro exhales against his shoulder.

“Keith. Do… Do you have support? Maybe you need to talk to someone-“

Even through the miasma of his tiredness, he understands automatically what Shiro is getting at. And yeah, they had the support of in-house counsellors and psychologists, yearly reviews and check ins as part of his work with Careflight, but it’s been a while since he’s needed it.  

“I don’t want to talk,” he mumbles weakly. With Shiro’s weight on him, there’s not much to stop him from sliding into sleep.

“Alright,” Shiro murmurs. “Alright, just sleep, baby.”

 

* * *

 

On the weekend, the townhouse bustles with activity.

Keith fights a yawn where he sits at Shiro’s side around the table on the patio, having only snatched a few hours of restorative sleep before the gaggle of their friends arrive. It’s clear to Shiro that his husband is still struggling to make his body shift back to diurnal patterns. Lance hasn’t even had that, preferring instead to power on under a steady stream of energy drinks and coffee and enough sugar Shiro wonders if he’s about to start bouncing off the walls.

He’s already pretty loud and Allura guides him gently to a chair and sits him down firmly and holds him down by perching on his lap. It’s what he needs and the instant she lays a hand against the side of his face, he sighs and relaxes.

“You know, maybe you should get some more rest,” Shiro says, tearing his attention away from Lance and Allura and turning to brush a hand across his husband’s shoulder sympathetically. Keith turns to him with dark smudges under his eyes and it’s not the first time that Shiro’s seen his internal spark muted like this. “We can do this later if you want.”

“No,” Keith protests with a shake of his head. “You’ve been waiting all week for this, I don’t want to hold you up any longer.”

“You’re not, Keith. I promise. At least let me get you another coffee, or some of that hideous green energy drink Lance has.”

Keith wrinkles his nose. “Coffee good, green stuff bad.”

Shiro chuckles. “Alright, coffee it is.”

“Double shot,” Keith calls out after him.

Shiro snaps off a salute, making Keith roll his eyes before he pads inside and heads to the kitchen. He finds it completely over run by Hunk and Pidge. Hunk has a production line in progress of big fluffy pancakes and Pidge is rummaging around in the draw for cutlery. Shiro has long since given up feeling guilty about Hunk and Pidge taking over the catering every time they visited. Neither of them had their own spaces, instead both taking advantage of a small, self-contained wing in the Holt residence. For the most part it worked well, although Colleen was known to be territorial about her kitchen, no matter how much she loved Hunk.

And Hunk, on the other hand, claims it to be a travesty that the state of the art kitchen that came with Shiro’s townhouse never saw it’s true potential and it was something he was keen on rectifying at least once a month.

“Can I squeeze in there? I need another coffee for Keith. He’s just about asleep at the table.”

“Another one?” Pidge asks in surprise. She glances behind him, as though trying to peer through the sheer curtains that shade the interior of the townhouse from the bright patio outside. It’s not difficult to make out Keith’s mop of dark hair where he sits at the table, and Shiro’s relieved that at least he’s still upright.

“Yep, another one.”

“Let me do it,” Hunk says, gently nudging Pidge out of the way. Shiro goes to protest but Hunk points a spatula at him, keeping him on the other side of the counter. “Master at work here. You stay there.”

“Okay,” Shiro laughs. “I’ll stay right here.”

Hunk turns around, working with impressive skill with one eye on the stove and another on the coffee machine nearby. 

While Hunk’s back is turned, Shiro finds himself studying the downturn of Pidge’s lip. She hasn’t quite been her usual outspoken self since Hunk had defected away from the garrison, leaving his projects behind and Shiro feels partly responsible for it.

Until now, he hadn’t had the right words to say. He’s not sure he even has now, but Pidge was the closet thing he had to a sister and he wants to reach out to her.

He couldn’t bear the thought of her hurting because of something he did.

“KT, have you got a minute?”

“Huh?” She looks up warily from where she’s counting out the knives and forks. Her rich amber eyes blink behind her round glasses. “Uh, I guess.”

He motions her over, away from the kitchen and into the lounge area where it’s quiet.

“What is it?” she asks, folding one arm across her chest and holding her elbow as her other arm dangles. Her shoulders turn in slightly and she looks suddenly years younger. Younger, and a little bit sad.

He lays his human hand against her shoulder warmly. “Is everything okay?”

There’s a long pause, a moment in time that has Shiro’s stomach clenching with worry. In the kitchen, they can hear Hunk talking to himself as he works, along with the spurt and noise of the coffee machine.  Shiro ignores it all, focused as he is on his adoptive sister’s unreadable expression.

He draws in a breath.

“I know Hunk leaving the garrison like that must have been a shock to you-“

“What? No,” she cuts him off quickly, her eyes jerking up to lock with his before sliding away again. She grips her elbow a little tighter. “It wasn’t.”

Shiro waits for a beat. If he’s patient enough, if he’s quiet enough, Pidge will spill without any prompting. She was a little bit like Keith in that regard. Give them both a little space to maneuverer and they’ll confine easily. Try to pressure them and they will feel cornered enough to go on the offensive.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

“He just… he just up and left, Shiro,” she blurts out after a long minute.  Her eyes dart around before settling on his face and they’re lined with hurt and confusion. Shiro’s chest aches and he wants to say something but Pidge barrels on. “I mean, I knew he wasn’t happy, but I guess I wasn’t listening closely enough. And now he’s not going to be there anymore-“

“He won’t be far, Pidge,” Shiro tells her softly. She shakes her head and fiddles with the wire frames of her glasses.

“He won’t be there at the base anymore. Neither will you. You both just… left.”

“I’m sorry, KT, I know I haven’t handled any of this well.”

“It’s not your fault,” a voice says from behind them. Shiro turns around to find Hunk standing nearby with a mug in his hands. The coffee for Keith.  “It’s not,” he says again, looking directly at Shiro.

“Hunk,” he says helplessly. He gets the sense that this is a discussion that Pidge and Hunk need to have together, one he’s not sure he needs to be a part of but that he can’t quite help but feel responsible for anyway. There were are lot of people who were affected by his decision to move on from the garrison, more than he’d properly realised.

“It’s not, Shiro,” Pidge says from beside him, her petite shoulders rising in a shrug. “But I guess it’s something Hunk and I do need to talk about.”

Shiro leaves them to talk, a flicker of unease leaving his stomach tight. Walking back outside, he hands the mug to Keith who accepts it gratefully then slides into the seat beside him.

“Thanks,” Keith says gratefully, curling his fingers around it and griping it tight. He closes his eyes and breathes in the aroma and even just by doing that, he looks more alert.

Breakfast, or more so brunch, gets into full swing when Matt arrives, late as usual and with Lotor trailing behind him. If Shiro hadn’t already talked to Matt about Lotor’s presence beforehand, he might have been surprised to see him but as it stood, since Lotor’s departure from his mother’s organization, he was looking for a new purpose and his shrewd legal expertise was just what Shiro and Hunk needed in these early stages.

“Hey, look, it’s the lovebirds!” Lance cheers when Matt and Lotor pull up a seat.

Pidge scowls at Lance over the table but she spares a moment to give Lotor a grudging welcome. He’s a different man to the one that had lurked in the corners during their wedding and a small part of Shiro is still slightly unsure which version of him was the real one but Shiro trusts Matt’s judgement.

“That could be any couple around this table,” Matt tells Lance with a roll of his eyes. Lance looks at him shrewdly.

“So it’s official then, you and Lotor are a couple? Like a couple couple? The dating kind?”

Matt freezes like a dear in the headlights at Lance’s question but it’s Lotor who clears his throat delicately.

“Yes,” he answers when Matt doesn’t. He reaches for his glass and even from where he’s sitting, Shiro can see the tension that grips his shoulders.

There’s a heartbeat of silence then Lance shrugs. “Cool,” he says, nonplussed and the conversation quickly shifts to the bevy of pancakes and waffles that Hunk places in the centre of the table. Squabbling quickly starts and Shiro snags a few for himself and Keith before Lance and Matt can hoover up too many.

“Thought these weren’t in your diet plan,” Keith teases him with a smirking grin. He reaches across Shiro’s chest to steal the bowl of blueberries from Allura and it’s too deliberate a move that Shiro doesn’t bother to protest, especially when Keith’s palm lingers a little too longer than strictly necessary on his thigh. Shiro hopes they never get sick of this easy intimacy, the affection between them. It’s more than just about the passion that burns between them, there’s a friendship and a trust and a simple, unshakable pleasure in knowing that this is his person. This is Keith who has his back, Keith that loves him, and Keith that is going to stand beside him through all of the hard work that’s still yet to come.

He leans back slightly, letting one hand fall against Keith’s back.

“They’re not, but today is a special occasion.”

Keith glances at him in surprise as he shifts back into his normal position. “Yeah? What’s the occasion?”

“Mmm, you’ll see,” Shiro answers cryptically with a small smile. He can see Keith is itching to push for more but Shiro distracts him by handing him the maple syrup instead.

The conversation stays light and playful as they eat. Pidge bickers with Lance over some recently released videogame and Allura chats with him about a new holiday show she caught on tv and the potential for a honeymoon destination. At one point he glances up to catch Matt feeding Lotor a strawberry and he blinks in surprise, only for Pidge to catch his eye and wrinkle her nose playfully in mock disgust, making him laugh.

Through it all, Keith’s ankle hooks around his under the table. In his hand is yet another coffee.

“How many is that?” Shiro asks him in amusement when he notices. Keith gives him a sheepish glance.

“You don’t want to know.”

Shiro chuckles and gets to his feet, starting to gather up the remnants from their meal. Lance quickly joins him, so does Keith but once the sink is stacked with dirty dishes, he waves at them both back outside.

“Leave it,” he says firmly. “We’ve got business to discuss.”

“Oh, that sounds ominous,” Lance comments cheerily.

Back at the table, Lotor has a stylish pair of glasses perched on his nose and a datapad in his hands. He furrows his forehead, studiously flipping through the digital contracts on his screen while the rest talk quietly amongst themselves. 

Hunk catches Shiro’s eye. He looks nervous and that makes the nerves start to creep up on Shiro too. This was really happening. They were really going to do this, and for the second time in as many months, Shiro gets the distinct feeling he’s balancing precariously on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall into a new life with new challenges and virtually nothing to catch him.

He hopes he’s ready. This venture will be a far, far cry from herding cadets into the simulators and simulating flight plans.

Keith seems to sense his sudden unease and once again his hand steals into Shiro’s and grips it with a quiet reassurance.

Shiro squeezes back in thanks.

“These appear to all be in order,” Lotor says moments later.  He places the tablet down onto the table surface and takes his glasses off, folding them down neatly and laying them beside his datapad.  He fixes his gaze on Shiro. “But I would caution you against using your own assets as collateral. Should this venture fail, it would put everything you have at risk.”

Shiro exchanges a shuttered glance with Keith at Lotor’s words.

It’s a sore point between them but over the past week, Shiro has searched for other options and this seemed to be the best and fastest way to get the venture off the ground initially. It left him feeling uneasy and a few months ago, Shiro wouldn’t hesitate to put everything he had on the line for something he believed in so strongly.

But it was different now.

It’s no longer just his assets at jeopardy, it’s not just his savings that ticked over in the account. It belonged to Keith too. Everything they had, all their material goods and then some – and while Keith wasn’t fazed by the potential losses, Shiro was.

It isn’t just for them in the here and now, it’s for their future too…. and any extension of their tiny family unit that may one day come to pass.

Shiro is reluctant to put all that at risk.

“It won’t fail,” Keith cuts in firmly.  “But even if it did…”

He shrugs once and grips Shiro’s hand tighter. “We’ll still have each other, right?”

Keith asks the question of Lotor but his gaze remains firmly trained on Shiro’s face. His eyes blaze with determination and Shiro knows there’s no way he wants to fight that. Why would he? Who else can offer him that kind of faith?

It’s a faith he suspects he’s going to sorely need.

“Yes,” Lotor answers, something close to amusement twitching at his lips. Even he recognizes Keith’s steadfast determination to make Shiro’s dream a reality.

Keith nods once, a jerk of his head. “Then that’s all that matters.”

Something about his husband’s unwavering belief makes Shiro struggle to swallow around the lump in his throat.

He’s saved from answering by Hunk. He’s sitting at the other end of the table, Pidge on his lap. After the strained undercurrent Shiro had noticed between them earlier, Shiro is relieved that their talk had clearly set things right between them once again. 

“Uh, so you guys know I have some funds tucked aside too, right?”

“Hunk, I can’t ask you to do that,” Shiro shakes his head. “You’re bringing enough to the table as it is.”

“But we’re partners, right? Equal shares. I bring the tech and you bring the… body?”

On Hunk’s other side, Lance snickers ungracefully but Hunk ignores him, staring at Shiro intently. Lance doesn’t escape Pidge’s attention though; she leans over and pinches Lance on the arm, causing him to yelp.

“Just checking you’re still awake,” she says sweetly and Lance grumbles, rubbing his arm before he scoots his chair closer to Allura.

“Hunk, if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be standing here right now,” Shiro says. “I’m not going to ask you to pour your savings into this too.”

“But what if I want to? What if I want to put everything into this. I believe in it just as much as you do, Shiro.”

“But if it fails-“

“It’s not going to fail,” Keith snaps and there’s no mistaking the high irritation in his tone.

Shiro throws his husband a mildly exasperated glance, charmed and buoyed by his unwavering faith.

But Shiro is nothing if not pragmatic. He needs to consider all the outcomes, and unfortunately, there _is_ the potential for their venture to fail. The world market was a cruel place, and not every start-up got a go of it, no matter how noble their intentions were.

“Keith,” he chides mildly. “There is a chance it might. We have to be mindful of that.”

Keith’s jaw works silently for a moment and Shiro offers his hand a squeeze. It’s enough to placate him temporarily but finds himself tugging him close, absorbing a little of his strength. The anxiety is creeping up from his gut as they navigate this painful process of establishing the groundwork for what they want to do.

Allura clears her throat delicately.

“Shiro, Hunk, I fear that you may be missing a vital piece of this puzzle,” Allura says quietly into the empty space. All heads swivel to her direction and even under her richly dark skin, her cheeks turn rosy under their curious gazes.

Shiro rubs the back of his neck, not quite sure what she could mean. “We have?”

Keith catches his eye briefly before he turns his attention back to Allura. Beside her Lance leans back in his chair, arms folded across his chest and an expression that appears distinctly smug, as though he knows something the rest of them don’t.

Shiro’s eyes narrow slightly. Maybe he does.

“Yes,” Allura nods. Absently, she tucks a stray silver curl behind her ear and draws in a deep breath. She glances sideways at Lance for support and he smiles and gives her an encouraging nod.

“You’ve got this, princess,” he murmurs.

Allura straightens and lays her hands against the table. Her chin lifts and in the dappled sunlight that filters down from the trees overhanging the courtyard, she appears as regal as ever. Lance stares at her with hearts in his eyes but his mouth tightly shut.

“Allura?” Shiro probes gently.

“The tech that Hunk has created is unlike anything the world has ever seen. It’s completely different to the standard prosthesis currently on the market. Yours is permanent, truly bionic and a part of you just like your original arm was. But due to that, there is a heavy biomedical component that you need to consider. You need someone who can offer that expertise.”

It takes very little time for Allura’s words to settle into Shiro’s mind before he realises the truth of it. There’s a distinct sensation of his stomach dropping and he has to fight the way his body wants to sag under the realisation. How could they have been so blind to as to forget something so important in their planning? Shiro tries to run through the numbers and expectations in his mind, only to find them fall flat with this new consideration.

“You’re right,” he says quietly, unable to keep the dismay out of his voice. He looks across the table at Hunk who looks just as distressed as he does. Matt and Pidge who immediately start to argue about possible options. Lotor stares assessingly at Allura and Keith wears an expression that Shiro can’t decipher. In contrast, Lance looks like he’s about to bite his fingers down to the bone.

“Ally,” he whines quietly. “Tell them. Just get it out. I’m dying here.”

Allura flushes once again before she raises her hand to halt Matt and Pidge’s argument.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t made myself clear,” she continues. “I would like to offer my services if you’ll have me Shiro. And Hunk. I have the knowledge to help you both with this venture, but more than that, I will be able to provide you with the all the might and support of Royal Altea.”

“Royal Altea?” Hunk questions. “As in, Royal Altea children’s hospital?”

“Yes,” Allura nods.  “However, it’s not just hospitals they are involved with, but research and development, cutting edge treatments-“

“Yeah, Royal Altea Institute, Royal Altea university-“

“Alfor is a legend in the medical field,” Pidge cuts in. She stares shrewdly at Allura. “A few years ago he partnered with the garrison to create stimulants for our deep space pilots. It completely changed the way we do things up there.”

“Yes,” Allura says quietly.  “Alfor is my father.”

There’s a beat of shocked silence before Lance suddenly throws his arms up into the air.

“Yeah!” he cheers loudly. “Finally! Do you know how long we’ve been sitting on that? Thank god the cat is out of the bag now. I’ve been dying.”

“You did very well,” Allura assures him, letting Lance tug her into his lap without any protest. She seems relieved to have it out in the open, although the others, including Shiro, are still trying to wrap their heads around the implications.

It takes him a moment to tear his gaze away and settle it onto his husband. “Did you know about this?”

Keith’s smile is small. “Yeah, but it wasn’t really my place to say anything.”

Shiro turns back to Allura, still not quite comprehending the weight of her offer. Or perhaps not letting himself get carried away. “But what about your work with Careflight, Allura?”

Allura looks back over at them but her gaze lands on Keith.

“Critical care doctors with Careflight are only supposed to do six month placements at a time,” Keith answers, his eyes on Allura.  “Allura’s done six.”

“Which means they won’t accept her back even if she wants to stay,” Lance continues. He lays a hand against her back in support and she gives him a small, warm smile in response before she turns back to Shiro.

“So, you see, I find myself at a loose end and searching for a new challenge of my own. But Shiro, Hunk… if you allow me to join you in this venture, then I promise you I can offer everything you need to get started. State of the art resources, your own lab-“

Lance points at Shiro’s arm. “If that’s what Hunk can come up with in his parents’ garage, can you imagine what he can do if he has the might of Royal Altea at his back and an actual lab? Holy shit, it would be in… sane.”

“I could upgrade almost everything. It would be a whole new arm-“

The conversation around him seems to fade into a dull buzzing in his ears. It was almost too much. Allura offered them a way forward they hadn’t considered before, that they hadn’t even dreamed of. But it wasn’t that easy.

“Allura,” Shiro cuts into the chatter, his voice cracking unwillingly. “We wouldn’t be able to pay you-“

Allura laughs softly. “Shiro, that won’t be a concern.”

For the first time in a long time, Shiro finds himself speechless.

“This is insanely cool,” Pidge announces, practically bouncing in excitement on Hunk’s knee. “I’ve read about Royal Altea, some of their biomedical programs rival the garrison’s!”

“Yeah, and no one is going to ask me to build a bomb,” Hunk says as an afterthought and Matt leans around Lotor to frown at him.

“That’s not what they were asking you to do, Hunk,” Matt tells him but Hunk shakes his head.

“Yeah? Well, it sure sounded like it. And I’m not going to be a part of that.”

Matt opens his mouth to argue but seems to think better of it when Lotor touches his thigh briefly.

“Wait,” Shiro holds his hands up. “Slow down. Allura, are you really sure? Because I know I speak for Hunk and myself when I say we are incredibly humbled by your offer but this venture is still an unknown entity, it doesn’t even have a name yet. Hunk and I have a personal stake in this, but you don’t-“

“Well, you’re wrong there,” Lance mutters hotly but Allura quietens him with a slim hand on his wrist.

“I do,” she says. “But we won’t be able to do this without your leadership, Shiro. You’re the one bringing us all together. You’re going to be the one standing in front of the world with proof it can be done.”

Shiro looks down at his metallic hand, flexing his fingers without much thought. Keith had asked if he was ready for it recently, if he was ready to put himself out there so that others could reap the same benefits, share the same hope and in his desire to make a difference so badly, he’d said yes.

But it’s not until now, humbled by the support of his friends and their belief in what they hope to achieve, that he understands that he truly is.

Allura looks at him earnestly, a latent fear in her eyes that she might be rejected but there’s very little Shiro can think of to rebuff her and he quickly realises he doesn’t want to. And Hunk, watching on intently with Pidge on his lap, doesn’t want to either.

He holds his hand out Allura and smiles as their palms connect and they shake.

“Welcome aboard, Allura.”

“Thank you, Shiro. Thank you for letting me be a part of this.”

Hunk throws his arms around both of them. “This is great! This is so great!”

Shiro laughs and looks over at his husband, warmth curling inside him when he catches a glimpse of Keith’s proud smile. From the weight of the world earlier to cloud nine now, he’s almost dizzy with the brightness of the path in front of them.

“So, it’s settled?” Lance demands, hands on his hips. He’s jittery from too much caffeine but oozing pride and excitement too. “Pidge, Keith and I will be out there bringing home the bacon while our sweethearts change the world. Lotor and Matt, you guys can be the cheer squad.”

Shiro shakes his head, still trying to absorb it all. “I’m… guys. I’m so honoured.”

“You’re going to do something amazing, Shiro,” Keith tells him quietly when Hunk lets them go. He leans over to give Shiro a quick hug before he gets to his feet and steps away from the table. Lance materializes at his side, his phone in his hand.

“And right on time,” he grins.

“What is?”

The question is barely out of Shiro’s mouth before the doorbell rings and Keith flashes him a sharp smile. He’s gone for all of a minute before he returns to the patio, stepping past the sheer white curtains that flutter in the morning breeze. There’s a shadowed figure behind him.

“Shiro, Hunk… there’s someone we’d like you to meet. This is Rolo.”

Shiro recognizes him from the open day, hovering in the background with a blonde girl but he doesn’t remember an introduction other than a brief comment from Rolo about his arm. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time but as he leans over to shake his hand, he notices the way that one of Rolo’s legs under his knee length shorts is a metallic rod that ends in an artificial foot.

“Hi,” Rolo says warmly. “I heard about what you’re doing, and I want to be your first subject.”

Lance catches Shiro’s eye from over Rolo’s shoulder and grins.

“So, captain,” he grins. “What do we do first?”

 

* * *

 

Hunk and Shiro talk animatedly with Allura and Rolo at the table and Keith hangs back with Lance as they watch.

“Thank fuck that’s all out in the open now,” Lance says with a heavy exhale.  Keith chuckles in agreement.

Now that the solution was on the table, Keith isn’t sure why he never considered it before. It was so obvious the way their skills and goals could meld together as a team and now they would, with Shiro at the helm.

Lotor amends the files on his tablet, making notes regarding Allura’s new role and the resources she can bring to the table with her connection to Royal Altea and her father’s extensive network of contacts.

Listening in on the other side of the table, Matt and Pidge appear mildly jealous at the talk of the new project they wouldn’t be able to be a part of on account of their commitments to the garrison as officers and Keith is tempted to place a bet with Lance on just how long it will take before they abandon the garrison too.

A few hours later, Rolo is on his way home with Matt making noises about following too but before he can, Lotor reaches into his pocket and pulls out a datastick, handing it over to where Shiro now stands with his arm around Keith’s shoulders.

“My apologies to the both of you, I had meant to give you this when I arrived but I fear it slipped my mind until now.”

“What’s this?” Shiro asks, taking the datastick from Lotor’s hand when presented with it. Keith reads the confusion on his face, tempted with a small streak of speculation. The last time Lotor had given them a datastick, it was in direct defiance of his mother and the first step to him breaking away from the experiment and his mother’s research team.

“It’s your wedding video.”

Lotor smiles but it’s tight and embarrassed enough to appear on his features as a delicate grimace. “I thought you would perhaps like to have it… for prosperity’s sake.”

“Wedding video?” Lance plucks the stick from Shiro’s hand before either Shiro or Keith can protest. “Let me see that.”

“Lance,” Keith says in warning but Lance holds the stick in his hand and grins broadly.

“I’m going to put it on the TV.”

“Lance,” Keith groans. Lance cackles and makes to head inside, only to be intercepted by Pidge and a sly looking expression on her face.

“I’ll take that,” she smirks, elbowing Lance deftly in the ribs. It’s hard enough that he grunts and doubles over and Pidge snatches the data stick from his hands. She taps out a small dance of triumph and tugs on Hunk’s hand.  “Come on, let’s watch it!”

“So tiny… and so vicious,” Lance groans dramatically, more to himself than anyone when she disappears inside. He straightens up and snags Allura around the waist.  “Babe, you didn’t save me.”

“No,” Allura pats him on the head lovingly. “But I’ll kiss it better.”

She leans in to give him a small kiss.  Lance is grinning dopily when she pulls back.

“Huh. Worth it.”

Allura laughs and loops her hand through Lance’s arm and they head inside then it’s just Keith left on the patio with Shiro’s arms around his shoulders.

“So, uh. Wedding video, huh?” Keith says uncomfortably. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

Shiro’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “No? Why not? It might be fun. The whole day was a blur for me. It might be nice to take a trip down memory lane.”

There’s a hoot of laughter from inside and Keith groans quietly.

“Are you sure about that?”

Shiro laughs and pulls him in after him as he heads back inside the townhouse. The couch has been commandeered by Lance, Pidge and Allura, with Hunk on the floor coaxing Black with tidbits of bacon. Matt and Lotor stand off to the side, Lotor studying his datapad intently while Matt winces at the screen.

Keith knows how he feels.

There’s no room to sit but Keith is too antsy anyway so he stands behind the others on the couch as their wedding day unfolds on the screen.

It’s barely been a few months but it already feels like a lifetime ago.

The video starts with a short interview with Lance that has Keith cringing and everyone else laughing.

_Keith? Yeah, Keith. He’s my best bud. He acts like he’s all tough and doesn’t give a shit about anyone but let me tell you, it’s all a lie. Wait, he’s not going to see this, is he? No? Okay, good-_

“Thanks for throwing me under the bus, Lotor,” Lance yells out, only for Lotor to offer him a small mocking bow that has the rest of them all snickering.

The video then cuts to Matt and Shiro in a pretty room before the ceremony. Matt is brushing something off Shiro’s dark suit and something inside Keith catches at the sight of him. Shiro had looked so good in that suit. He’d been breathtaking.

Matt asks Shiro if he’s nervous and Shiro’s answering chuckle is shaky in a way Keith’s not sure he’s ever heard before.

_Yes, god, am I really doing this? What if it doesn’t work out? What if he doesn’t show up?_

There’s a series of soft _aww’s_ from everyone and Keith glances up at Shiro standing beside him to find his cheeks bright pink.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters in embarrassment. “I was nervous, okay.”

“But he showed up,” Lance points at the screen. “Look at Keith’s face! Shiro, if it makes you feel any better, I was so sure Keith was about to do a runner. I even lost a bet with Thace over it-“

“You what?” Keith demands and Lance sinks back into the couch.

“I lost, okay. You cost me a hundred credits.”

“Asshole,” Keith isn’t sure if he’s mad or amused but he leans over the couch to thump Lance in the arm anyway. His emotions are doing strange things under the recollections the video brings up. His heart races with the same nerves it did on the day, leaving him uncomfortable and breathless in a way that doesn’t quite make sense.

He knows how it all turns out, doesn’t he?

The video cuts away from him walking nervously up the aisle, switching to Shiro’s expression just before he turns around and Keith almost feels weak at the sight of it. There’s so much anxiety there, the nerves and the tenuous hope mixed in with fear. And despite everything, there had been a lot of fear there that day, from both of them.

He doesn’t realise how unsteady he feels until Shiro reaches for his hand and Keith turns to half crash against his husband’s chest. He winds his arms around him tightly and lays his cheek against his heart, listening for that familiar beat.

It’s elevated too, just like Keith’s is, and he wonders if he’s not the only one affected by the memories in this way.

The video continues on to the ceremony, playing back the vows they’d said to each other that had been given to them by Lotor and the experiment organisers. Keith remembers being relieved he wouldn’t have to try to write his own vows for a stranger but now he wonders what his vows would be like if he had the chance to say them again.

Then something else in the video catches his attention.

He looks up at Shiro, drawing back in order to be able to see his face. Shiro looks down at him with shiny silver eyes and a small smile.

“I didn’t use your real name,” Keith says quietly and the memory plays in tandem with the video on the screen.

When they’d exchanged their vows, he hadn’t used _Takashi_ and something about that upsets him more than it should.

“I didn’t want to complicate things,” Shiro tells him softly. Everyone else is so engrossed in the video, trying to spot themselves in the crowd and reminiscing their own experiences that they pay little mind to the two of them. “All your family and friends would have heard that and I didn’t want to explain to everyone that I don’t like that name. Not anymore.”

“Oh,” Keith says softly then he frowns. “But-“

“Only from you,” Shiro assures him, leaning down to offer him a warm kiss. It’s odd to be hearing Shiro’s voice from the TV even as his mouth is pressed against his. A small shiver Keith can’t explain rolls over his spine when Shiro draws back. Shiro stares at him intently. “You’re the only one I want to use it.”

The video continues on, recapping the reception and the speeches. There’s a close up of the wedding cake and the cake topper that makes Keith snicker in spite of himself and then their wedding dance plays and Keith can barely remember the song. He’d been exhausted by the end of that night, too many emotions blending together, his hopes soaring so high and his fear gripping him so tight.

The video ends and then Lance sits up, dangling lanky arms over the back of the couch and leering at them both. There’s a look in his eye that makes Keith wonder if he’s up to something.

“So, Shiro,” he says innocently. “Any regrets?”

A sea of faces turn to them.

“Hmm,” Shiro says casually after a moment. He untangles himself from Keith’s embrace as he considers Lance’s question. Keith stiffens at Shiro’s hesitant response, only to experience his stomach falling somewhere ugly at his answer.

“Perhaps just a few.”

“What?” Keith stares at him and suddenly the few steps of space that Shiro had placed between them feels like a dark chasm Keith is going to fall into and never escape from. He struggles to hold it, but he can feel his expression falling as he tries to make sense of the serious look in Shiro’s eyes.

Shiro has regrets? Does he regret marrying Keith?

Keith feels sick at the thought.

“What do you mean?”

“I do have a few regrets,” Shiro says then, confident and in no way apologetic. The entire room goes deathly silent except for the blood that roars in Keith’s ears. Shiro’s expression is guarded. It looks… wrong.

“Shiro,” Keith hears himself whisper through dry lips.

Shiro reaches out then, taking one of Keith’s hands and laying it palm up in the black grip of his bionic grip. He’s looking down, his human finger tracing over the black titanium band on Keith’s finger. The touch makes him shiver.

He’s confused. His stomach churns.

“I regret that I didn’t get to write my own vows for you,” Shiro says then. When Keith jerks his head up, Shiro is gazing at him with something soft and vulnerable and as raw as anything Keith has ever seen. “And I regret that I didn’t understand how much I would come to love you. I regret that we couldn’t choose our own wedding song. But most of all, I regret that I couldn’t do this-“

Keith’s heart starts to thunder wildly chest when Shiro suddenly sinks to one knee. He still holds Keith’s hands between his own and Keith is dimly aware of the sounds of the others squealing and shouting and hooting. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the way Shiro’s white locks lie across his forehead, the way his lips twitch with something warm even as his eyes are deep pools of calm steel.  

And the feel of his hands holding his.

“Shiro what are you doing?”

Shiro smiles gently and the sight of it leaves Keith breathless.

“Keith, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you so much. I never realised I could love anyone like I love you. I want to spend my entire life with you at my side. Please, will you marry me…. Again?”

Keith’s mouth drops open. He almost shakes his head in disbelief. “Shiro, but we’re-“

“This time we’ll do it in our own words,” Shiro says firmly. “Our own vows. Our own promises.”

“But we’re already married,” Keith says dumbly. He can’t seem to think.

“Let’s do it again, but for us this time. The way we want it. What do you say? Do you want to do it all over again?”

It takes a long time for Keith to find his voice. Too long because at one point, Lance muffles a cursed scream into a cushion and then lifts his head long enough to yell out.

“Answer him, mullet!”

Shiro struggles not to laugh and he throws Lance a pained look. “Lance,” Shiro says with a playful wince. “You’re killing me here.”

“Sorry!” Lance squeaks out, right before Pidge tackles him with another cushion and sits on him with every intention of shutting him up.

Keith pays them very little attention, too busy staring into Shiro’s eyes, lost in the silver shimmer and the gentle caress of his words.

“You really want to do this? Again? With me?” he finally hears himself ask.

It doesn’t compute. Not really. He feels like he was lucky enough to get one wedding with Shiro, one that he can write off as the hand of fate, of lady luck smiling on him just this once and that anything more would be too ambitious. That anything more would have Shiro realising maybe he could have found a better match but it worked okay with Keith so he’ll stick with it.

Instead, Shiro is on his knee in front of him, in front of all their friends, heart flayed wide open and asking, _begging,_ Keith to make those promises all over again.

“More than anything,” Shiro tells him simply. “Will you?”

Keith’s vision suddenly gets blurry and his heart expands in his chest so hard and big he almost can’t get the words out. 

“Yes,” he breathes, then he laughs at the craziness of it all. Was it really all that crazy? Was Shiro proposing to him any weirder than marrying him without even knowing who he was.

“Oh my god, yes of course. Shiro,” Keith chokes on the sudden tightness of his throat.  “I love you so mu-“

He doesn’t get to finish before Shiro is back on his feet and bundling him into his arms. He hears laughter and hooting and Shiro laughs in delight but it takes Keith a good two minutes of staining his husband’s shirt with his tears before he realises he’s sobbing like a baby in open view of the most important people in his life.

“Whoo, yeah, another wedding!” he hears Lance yell. “I love love!”

Shiro rubs his back soothingly, murmuring into his hair and gently rocking. It surprises Keith how long it takes for his emotions to settle and then he’s sucking in deep lungfuls of air and wiping his face with the backs of his palms roughly.

“Fuck,” he mutters weakly. “I just-“

“Hey man, it’s okay,” Lance climbs over the back of the couch to yank him into a hug, one that’s quickly joined by Hunk and Allura and maybe even Pidge and Keith doesn’t know if he should laugh harder or sob again under the intensity of their friendship. 

When they release him, he’s not alone for long before Shiro pulls him back into his arms.  He’s still dazed, still bewildered and still raw and emotional. He clings to Shiro when Hunk appears with champagne but after the pop and fizz of the drink finding it’s way to him, he starts to breathe again.

Shiro looks at him warmly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith half laughs. “Just… You surprised me.”

“For the record, I would normally never spring something so important on someone like that but, well, I had a feeling you were a sure thing.”

Keith chuckles and tilts his face up for a kiss, to which Shiro doesn’t hesitate to indulge. When they open their eyes, Lance clears his throat and sidles closer.

Lance holds out his hand expectantly.

“Okay, now hand over your rings.”

Keith frowns and shoves his hand behind his back, eyeing Lance with suspicion. “What? Why?”

“Shiro, do you want to tell him, or should I?”

“You can do the honours, Lance,” Shiro says, already tugging off his wedding ring. He lays it in the centre of Lance’s palm. 

Keith stares at him aghast. “Shiro!”

“Relax,” Lance rushes to say to Keith before Shiro has a chance to answer him. “You’ll get it back in a week.”

“A week?”

“Yep, a week from today, you’re getting another wedding!”

It takes a few minutes for that to sink in. His head was starting to hurt. Surely he didn’t hear that right.

“What. What are you talking about?”

“A second wedding,” Lance informs him, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Keith whirls on his husband.

“Shiro, what is he talking about? What are you doing? _Did you two plan this?”_

Shiro gives him a sheepish look and rubs the back of his neck. “Uh. Maybe?”

“Oh my god,” Keith starts to laugh then. A real laugh. It’s easier to laugh than it is to cry and he doesn’t want to cry again. He’s not crying because he’s unhappy, he’s crying because he’s not sure he’s ever been so happy.

God, Shiro just proposed to him and it’s dizzying in a way he never expected that moment to exist between them. He never expected to have that memory to tuck away in his heart and god, he needs another champagne because how does this even work if they’re already married? Is he going to have to divorce Shiro first? Because he won’t do that. He refuses to do that, even for this.

He must stay these things out loud because Shiro takes the champagne glass from his hand and sets it on the kitchen counter, all the while chuckling lightly. Then he cups Keith’s face tenderly and kisses him with a mouth that tastes like champagne.

 

* * *

 

Lotor and Matt make to leave soon after the celebratory drinks run out. Lance grumbles about needing more champagne about three seconds before he ends up falling asleep on the floor. Hunk has to physically restrain Pidge from drawing something obscene on his cheek, much to Allura’s relief.

“It’s not that I mind, per se,” she tells Pidge with a giggle. “I just don’t want to have to be the one answering all the questions about it at work later.”

Keith disengages from Shiro long enough to see Matt and Lotor off. On the top step by the townhouse’s front door, he summons his courage and reaches out to touch Lotor’s arm before he can disappear down the steps after Matt.

“Lotor, can you spare a second?”

Lotor pauses. He’s standing a few steps down and it brings them eye to eye. “Of course. How can I be of assistance?”

Keith chews the inside of his cheek for a moment before he starts to talk.  

“At the beginning of the experiment, when you matched us, you gave me the option to change my name on the wedding day. To Shiro’s name… but I wasn’t ready then.” 

Keith draws in a deep breath. This was it. “Well, I’m ready now.”

Lotor’s fine brow arches high, just a silver flash of surprise.  “You wish to be Kogane-Shirogane?”

“No,” Keith shakes his head. “Just Shirogane.”

“You can hyphenate should you wish. I was under the impression your name was important to you.”

“It was, once. But not now.”

Lotor considers him silently for a moment. “And what about your uncles? Do you not share the same family name with them?”

Keith’s lip curls. “No. They’re Marmora’s. Kogane was my mother’s name and no one has seen or heard from her in over twenty years. She’s gone now.”

“I see.”

Keith can’t quite work out what Lotor is thinking. He straightens up, gratified to realises he’s slightly taller now. “So, can you help me?”

Lotor gives him a small nod.  “Yes, I can.”

“Don’t say anything to Shiro yet though. I want to surprise him.”

“Would you like it ready for your next ceremony?”

“Is that an option?”

“I believe it can be.”

“Then yeah. Yeah, that would be good.”

Lotor continues down the stairs, taking only three steps before he pauses and glances back.

“May I ask why the change of heart?”

Keith looks back over his shoulder, into the open doorway of the townhouse where his friends are still crowded in the living room. He hears Lance’s voice pitched high in indignation, Allura’s pretty laugh, Pidge’s biting insult and Hunk’s deeply soothing tones.

And then he hears Shiro’s voice, ringing with a quiet authority, kindness and warmth and Keith smiles to himself before he turns back to Lotor.

“I don't need it anymore," he says, lifting one shoulder in a weak kind of shrug. "I wanted to keep my name so I could find my family."

He looks back towards the townhouse and this time his smile is tender. "And now I have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the mental image of Lance doing that Shia Labouf 'DO IT' meme while Shiro was 'proposing' and laughed at myself for an hour.  
> Ahhh. small things amuse small minds.


	62. tell me all the ways to love you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm struggling with these last few chapters - i haven't got as much time to write anymore and when i do I'm usually falling asleep at the keyboard so i'm going to revert back to smaller chapters (hopefully) more often.  
> Fingers crossed it all still flows.
> 
> This chapter is pure fluff and some hanky panky towards the end.

It’s the loud bang and a muffled curse that has Keith dropping his toothbrush into the sink and slipping into the hallway quickly with Black on his heels. It comes from the spare room and the light peeking under the door gives him a fair idea it’s not going to be an intruder lurking around. Keith pushes the door open with the flat of his palm, only to come face to face with his bulky husband standing on a chair and tugging at something on the ceiling.

“Come on, you stupid-“ Shiro bites off his curse with an irritated huff.

Keith leans casually against the doorframe to watch, although his gaze falls to the slim strip of skin that becomes exposed above Shiro’s jeans when he reaches his arms up.

“Takashi, what are you doing?”

Shiro jumps slightly, only then noticing Keith for the first time. He glances over, the expression on his face is a pure showcase his of annoyance with dark, snapped together brows and gritted teeth. It melts away quickly to be replaced with something warm when his eyes meet Keith’s.

Keith won’t ever get sick of that.

“I’m trying to get the trapdoor to the attic open,” Shiro tells him sheepishly.

Keith raises his eyebrows in surprise. “You have an attic?”

“ _We_ have an attic.”

“Okay,” Keith tries to stifle his laugh. “ _We_. But why are you wanting to go up there? At-“ Keith digs his phone out of his back pocket to check the time. “Eleven twenty-three at night?”

“Because I want to show you something.”

Keith watches as Shiro jiggles something once more and then the ceiling pops and something that looks like a compacted ladder folds down.

Shiro gives him a small smirk in triumph. “Coming up?”

The entrance to the attic is a dark hole that Keith peers at dubiously. “Uh. Do I have a choice?”

Shiro hops down from the chair but grabs the sides of the ladder and draws it all the way down until it’s fully extended. He places one foot up and looks over his shoulder, giving Keith a confident grin.

“Nope. Come on.”

Shiro scales the small ladder effortlessly. It groans a little under his weight but he doesn’t stop until he’s through the manhole and turned around, sticking his head through the opening and beckoning Keith over with a wave of his bionic hand. “What are you waiting for?” 

Keith pushes himself off the doorframe and stalks over, curling one hand over the side of the ladder. It doesn’t feel very sturdy and it wobbles slightly when he lifts up one foot to place it on the lowest step.

He stares up at his husband where his face is cast in shadow from the dark attic space beyond.

“You don’t hide the bodies are up there, do you?”

Shiro lets out a bark of laughter and his face disappears from sight for a moment before he leans back over. “Quit stalling and get up here.”

Keith shrugs and climbs up easily but he readily accepts the hand that Shiro offers him on the final step. It’s his human one, warm and strong and completely compassing of his own palm.

“Thanks,” he grunts, then he shuffles forward away from the hole and glances around.

It’s an attic, but not like any he’d been in before. This was more like another room, perhaps a storage space, with sheeted walls and smooth floorboards under his feet. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust properly but when they do, he can see the walls are sloping and at one end, there is a wide skylight that exposes the space to the moon and starlight beyond.

“Keep your head down,” Shiro murmurs in the dim light. “Low ceilings up here.”

He lays his hand on the small of Keith’s back to guide him the few steps towards the skylight. It’s a huge panel and it grows bigger as they approach.

“What is all this?” Keith asks.

The muted space makes him keep his voice quiet. He gets the sense there was something special about this space otherwise Shiro would have shown him, or at least told him about it earlier. It doesn’t even seem to be used for storage, it’s neat as a pin and vacant save for the nest of cushions and blankets on the floor.

Beside the soft looking pile, a serious looking telescope sits idle.

“This is where I would come to stargaze,” Shiro tells him with a small, faintly embarrassed smile. He pulls a small controller from his pocket and presses a button then there’s a low drone as mechanics start to whirl and the skylight opens, the panels from the centre folding out over the ends until the sounds of the night fall in and the air becomes cool. It feels like the sky is leaking in.

“We’re in the city so the stars aren’t as clear as they could be. But this used to be my quiet space. A… healing space.”

Shiro leads Keith over to the pile of blankets and cushions on the floor. There’s a thin mattress too, and Keith wonders if there were nights that Shiro might have slept up here, under the stars dreaming about the dream he couldn’t reach. That mental image hurts and not for the first time he wishes they’d been brought together sooner. Maybe he could have helped Shiro through it.

“Used to be?”

Shiro drops down, making himself comfortable against the cushions and Keith hovers uncomfortably until Shiro holds out an encouraging hand. Keith takes it, linking their fingers together and Shiro tugs him down to the floor too.

“Hmm, funny how I haven’t needed to come up here since we’ve been married.”

“Yeah?” Keith murmurs, a warm flush tugging at him at Shiro’s words. Shiro draws him close and Keith allows himself to be passive under his husband’s hands. Soon they’re both sprawled under the open skylight, nestled in on the pile of cushions and blankets, tucked together until the steady thump of Shiro’s heartbeat lies under Keith’s ear.  Shiro has one hand curled around him, his fingers absently teasing at the strands of Keith’s hair. It’s still damp and loose from his shower. “So, why are you only showing me this now?”

“Well, I wanted to come up here on your first night here. After that dinner and laser tag, but we got, ah…. A little side tracked, remember?”

Keith snickers quietly to himself. “Yeah, I remember.”

Shiro’s fingers drift from his hair to stroke over his shoulder. Despite his annoyance with the ladder earlier, he’s all soft murmurs and gentle touches now. It makes Keith’s heart sigh in contented bliss.

“And then… I kind of wanted to save it for something special. To surprise you.”

Keith huffs lightly then tilts his face up to press a little kiss against his husband’s jaw. It requires him to shift slightly and he ends up sliding one leg over Shiro’s thighs and pressing in close.

“Consider me surprised,” he says, propping his head up against one palm and smiling down at his husband. “Do you have any other surprises though? Any other secret rooms I should know about? No love dungeon I hope.”

Shiro’s lips twitch. “Isn’t that just the bedroom?”

Keith laughs. “I hope that doesn’t mean you plan on tying me up any time soon,” Keith smirks but it’s a full beat before he realises how quiet and still Shiro has gone under his touch. His brow furrows. “Shiro?”

Shiro’s tone is measured. “Is that… not something you would be interested in?”

“What do you mean? Like… B-bondage?”

“Well, not that extreme. But there are those handcuffs that Lance so thoughtfully gave us-“

“Yeah, as a _joke,”_ Keith huffs and rolls his eyes. He drops down, trying to disguise the odd flip flop of his heart in his chest at the thought of being tied up. Of _Shiro_ tying him up and he’s not sure how he feels about it.

He’s never done well with restraint.  To put himself in a situation like that willingly makes his heartrate spike aggressively at just the thought.

“It doesn’t have to be a joke,” Shiro says quietly. A wide hand slides up Keith’s back, a warm and sure touch. There’s a little too much pressure to be just comfort. There’s weight enough that Keith wants to shiver. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the idea of you laid back on the bed with nothing on but those around your wrists.”

Keith goes very still, and his cheeks feel burning hot. He’s grateful for the darkness. The mental image Shiro provides him with is equal parts arousing and terrifying.

“I… I don’t know,” he mumbles, suddenly embarrassed. “Are we really talking about this stuff? Kinks? Right now?”

Shiro hums. “I supposed it’s a conversation we should have some time soon. I feel like I should know what kind of stuff the man I’m going to marry is into.”

Shiro says it in perfect seriousness, but even in the glow of starlight washing over them from the open skylight, Keith can see the teasing glint in his eye. He nudges Shiro, poking him in the side with a low growl.

“How does that even work anyway?” he asks, hoping to steer the subject away from the handcuffs and what sort of things Shiro might like to introduce into their bedroom activities. Keith’s not ready to face that yet. He considers himself a simple man, but Shiro makes him comfortable enough that he might like to explore more if Shiro asked him.

It’s a mildly terrifying thought.

“How will what work? The handcuffs?”

Keith jabs a finger into him once again. “Getting married again. It feels strange doing it all over again so soon.”

“People renew vows all the time,” Shiro informs him. “It’s _romantic,_ Keith.”

“After a few years. I’m not sure a measly three months later is the done thing.”

“Neither is marrying a complete stranger,” Shiro laughs. “Besides, it won’t be same as last time. Just us and the team. The legalities won’t change.”

“Okay, so officially, which one is our anniversary?”

Shiro pauses to consider that. “I guess… I guess we stick with the one on the paperwork?”

“But this new one… it’s the real vows?”

Shiro doesn’t answer for a long time, and Keith turns his gaze upwards to the sprinkle of stars on the black canvas of the night. For a brief moment, it reminds him a bit of lying on the hood of his car in the desert and staring up at the night sky when he had first got his licence at seventeen and struck out in search of his mother. He’d lain there watching those distant stars feeling as small as insignificant as an ant on his boot.

It’s a memory he hadn’t thought of in years.

“You know,” Shiro finally huffs. “It’s harder than I thought. Writing my own vows for you. I thought it would be easier.”

Keith snickers a little over that. “This was your big idea, brainiac.”

“I know,” Shiro laughs. “But there’s so much I want to say I’m worried I’m going to talk for an hour.”

Keith’s eyes go wide. “Don’t do that.”

“I won’t,” Shiro laughs again. He slides Keith a speculative glance. “Look, I know you’re uncomfortable with the idea of going through it all again and if you don’t want to, I understand. I won’t force you into anything you don’t want to do.”

“What?” Keith scrambles to pull himself up. He sits upright at Shiro’s reclined side. It’s better this way, he can see Shiro’s face, see the way his eyes watch him, even in the darkness. He shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. God, Shiro, I would stand in front of the whole world just to tell them how much you mean to me, how much I love you.” Keith searches out Shiro’s hand and links their fingers together once again. “I’m not going to hide it, not even a little bit.”

Shiro is quiet but the smile he gives Keith is soft. Starlight washes over the planes of his face, coating the line of his jaw in a silver glow. “And here I was thinking that it was me who was the sappy one who can’t stop talking about how madly in love I am.”

Keith shrugs, lips twitching. There’s a small bloom of heat on his cheeks that he steadfastly ignores. “Yeah, I’ve been standoffish in the past, I know that. But this is different. This is important. This is _real._ Why the hell would I want to hide it? Besides, _you_ did the public proposal in front of all our friends, you really think I’m going to let you off the hook that easily?” Keith leans in to press a finger against the centre of Shiro’s chest and schools his face into a stern expression. “Not a chance, Shirogane.”

Shiro’s chuckle is soft. He pulls on their joined hands to bring Keith close again and Keith leans over him, bumping their noses gently together before Keith steals a kiss. Shiro sighs, eyelashes fluttering closed.

“I can’t wait to do it all over again,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Keith smiles and slumps back down, resting his head against Shiro’s shoulder and turning his face towards the stars. After a moment, he raises up his hand. Even in the low light from the sky, the band of skin across where his ring should be is a few shades lighter than the rest of him.

He frowns in the darkness.

“It really bothers you, doesn’t it? Not having your ring.”

Keith drops his hand, splaying it against his stomach. “I haven’t taken it off since you put it there. I feel naked without it.”

“Only a few more days,” Shiro presses a kiss against his temple. “Then I’ll put it there again.”

“What does Lance even need them for anyway?”

“A small alteration, nothing major. Just something to mark the occasion.”

Keith sighs before he answers. “You and Lance really planned this all out, huh?”

“Well, Lance did most of the ground work. If his career with Careflight ever goes bust, he’d probably do well at wedding planning.”

“Oh god, don’t encourage him. You know he wants to do a bucks night, right?” Keith wrinkles his nose in distaste. It wasn’t the first time. Lance had tried to arrange one before the first wedding but Keith was too weirded out by the whole idea of it and too swamped with work that he managed to stall Lance long enough that they’d run out of time.

He wasn’t so sure that would work this time around.

“Matt said the same thing.”

“Oh, yeah?” Keith raises an eyebrow. “What are you guys going to do? Bet it’s going to be something nerdy. Counting atoms or something-”

“Hey,” Shiro laughs, giving him a short poke. “Don’t be rude.”

Keith snickers quietly to himself but it fades quickly, morphing into something else entirely that leaves a bad taste at the back of his mouth.

“Lance said something about a strip club.”

There’s a still, quiet beat of silence that has Keith narrowing his eyes and swivelling his head to look at his husband, only to discover Shiro’s shoulders quivering silently as he vainly tries to purse his lips.

Keith sits up again, instantly annoyed. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, I’m just… I’m trying to picture you at a strip club.” Shiro tries to be diplomatic but his amusement is too powerful and it abruptly spills out of his chest in a peel of laughter. “Glowering in the corner while someone shakes their ass at you-“

Shiro can’t finish, clamping his human hand over his mouth to muffle his laugh and attempting to roll to the side, out of Keith’s reach. It doesn’t work, there’s nowhere to go but Keith folds his arms across his chest and glares at him, half annoyed but also privately amused at his husband’s honest prediction. 

“Why would I want to see that?” Keith demands hotly, lips twitching. “I don’t need to see that.”

Shiro laughs harder. “Keith, that’s-“

Keith grabs a spare cushion and climbs onto Shiro’s lap, raising the pillow above his head threateningly. “Stop laughing!”

Shiro sucks in a breath and purses his lips, a valiant effort to get himself under control but his eyes still shine merrily with amusement.

Keith lowers the cushion slowly. “Let’s get something straight. The _only_ ass I want to see shaking in my direction is yours.”

Shiro loses it again and this time Keith attempts to whacks him, trying to hold back his own laughter as he does so. He doesn’t get far, Shiro snatches Keith’s wrists in a move like quicksilver he doesn’t see coming and flips them. Somehow the movement makes Keith catch his foot against one leg of the telescope’s tripod and the thing topples over and lands with a rough crash.

“Oh, shit,” he gasps. He’s slightly winded from the force of landing on his back under Shiro’s grip. He tries to peer over Shiro’s shoulder. “Shiro, your-“

“Forget it,” Shiro says dismissively. He doesn’t even pause to look at the damaged scope languishing on its side on the floor just meters away. Instead, Shiro relinquishes one hand from around Keith’s wrists and trails it lovingly down the side of his face. His eyes are soft and adoring, even in the darkness. “You’re so much more important than that thing.”

Shiro lowers his head down, capturing Keith’s mouth under his in a kiss that starts off slow and soft, achingly teasing and worshipful until Keith finally reaches up to claw his hands against the back of Shiro’s shoulders and pull him down. The kiss deepens, Keith probing upwards against the seam of Shiro’s mouth, searching to deepen it, searching for Shiro’s tongue. He’s always loved the way Shiro can keep pace with him when they kiss, just another one of the ways they seemed to be perfectly matched. Keith’s always been a little hungry but with Shiro, it borders on possessive. As though he just wants to curl up inside Shiro’s heart and never leave.

Their kisses get joined by wandering hands, warm palms smoothing over quivering muscles, material hastily shoved aside. He’s helping Shiro yank his soft cotton tee over his head in a flurry when Shiro curses quietly and draws back.

“What?” Keith demands. His chest is heaving and he’s breathless. His fingers itch just to haul Shiro back to him.

“I don’t think I have any supplies up here,” Shiro mutters. There’s a slight tremor to his voice that clues Keith in that his husband is just as affected as he is.

Will it always be like this between them? Always in sync, always on the same page, at least when it comes to making love. He hasn’t had a wealth of experience, but even he knows that this flame that burns between them is bright enough to light up the sky.

“Guess we’ll just have to improvise,” he says, the calmness of his tone belies his heated blood. He closes his eyes and tilts his face up again in invitation, expecting Shiro to swoop back in and claim him once again with his mouth but he doesn’t. Keith creeps an eye open in confusion, only to be greeted with Shiro staring down at him with the softest, most imploring expression he’s ever seen.

“What is it?” he demands. “What’s wrong?”

Shiro smiles softly to reassure him, the small shake of his head makes his hair catch the moonlight. He swoops down but his mouth doesn’t find Keith’s, instead it lingers by his ear.

“Let me suck you off,” Shiro whispers hoarsely.

Keith barely lets the softly uttered request form before gripping Shiro’s shoulders and shoving him downwards.

His complete lack of hesitation seems to catch Shiro by surprise.

“What?” Keith demands, his hands on the band of his shorts, ready to yank them down. Shiro rocks back on his heels between Keith’s spread thighs.

“Nothing,” Shiro shakes his head, the stirrings of a smile at the corners of his lips. “I was just expecting more of a fight.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been dying for your mouth on me again.”

There’s a slight pause and even in the shadows, Keith is aware of the way Shiro’s mouth curves downwards into a frown.  He plays a warm hand on Keith’s waist, on the bare, sensitive skin.

Keith can’t help the shiver at the touch.

“Baby,” Shiro says slowly. “You never have to be shy about telling me what you want.”

Keith narrows his eyes slightly. A puff of breath spills from his lips. “Is this the kinks talk again?”

“No,” Shiro chuckles then. His thumb rubs a small circle against Keith’s hip as he cocks his head. “Do you want it to be?”

Keith is silent.

His lack of response sends Shiro’s eyebrows up under his hairline then his expression becomes calculated. He leans close, once again looming above him until Keith can feel the warmth of his husband’s breath against his cheeks.

He resists the urge to squirm.

“Tell me what you want, Keith.” Shiro’s voice has dropped so low it’s almost just a vibration. A vibration that goes straight to the part of him stands up and pays strict attention. He swells with heat under Shiro’s softly uttered command.

“You,” Keith croaks out. He’s caught in Shiro’s eyes. “You, any way I can have you.”

Shiro’s smile is borderline disapproving. He clucks once with his tongue. “That’s not a real answer.”

“Shut up,” Keith mumbles weakly, cheeks flaming. “It is.”

“No, it’s not. You need to give me more than that.”

“Than what?”

“Tell me, Keith. Is there anything you want to try?” Shiro softens his probing question with a light kiss.  “Maybe toys? Lace? Roleplay?... breath play?”

Before Keith can properly take in the things Shiro suggests, a hand settles against his throat. It’s a light touch but Keith hisses through his teeth at the contact. He’s suddenly as hard as diamonds.

“Yeah,” he finally mutters, suddenly immeasurably grateful for the darkness. “That.”

There’s a tiny blink of silence then Shiro’s surprise leaks through in his voice. “Really? I was only teasing but-“

Keith squeezes his eyes shut. He can feel his cheeks burning, ripe with mortification. He hopes Shiro can’t see them in the moonlight. Shiro’s hand rubs against his neck gently, sending an unwitting shiver down Keith’s spine.

He doesn’t understand why he’s turned on by that thought. Nothing too intense, but just the flirt of danger and possession he only trusts from Shiro. From his husband. He tries very hard not to think of Shiro’s hand warm and smooth curled over the column of his throat as Shiro drives into him but it’s like when someone tells you to think of a pink elephant. It’s impossible to think of anything but.

He swallows, and his adams apple brushes against Shiro’s palm.

“I know… I know you don’t... uh. Like to get rough-“

“It’s not a matter of getting rough,” Shiro says with a slight shake of his head. “It’s just that I don’t know if I can trust my tech. But I can use my other hand.”

Keith can’t manage anything else other than a dry swallow. Shiro leans down to offer a reassuring kiss. “Anything else?”

Keith thinks about it, tries to formulate an answer, but if he’s honest with himself, he’s not even sure what he’s interested in. Props in the bedroom wasn’t an option he was sure he could ever be excited about. Something about them feels too planned and in turn that makes him feel like it’s an act and not something spontaneous between two people that love each other. He doesn’t understand why the thought makes him feel vulnerable.

“Sorry,” he mutters after a long moment. He keeps his eyes closed and wills his heartrate to settle. “I guess I have some hang ups.”

“There’s no rush.” Shiro leans in to give him a light kiss. “We don’t have to do anything. I was just curious. I want you to be comfortable.”

“I am,” Keith confesses after a moment. “I think… maybe that’s what I’m afraid of.”

It’s hard to read Shiro’s face in the dark. “Afraid of being comfortable?”

Keith licks his lips. His heart hammers in his chest. So much for getting it to settle. “Afraid of… um. Maybe, not matching up. With.. ah-”

“We’re doing pretty good so far.”

“Yeah but that’s because it’s just _us_. When there’s other things-“ Keith snaps his jaw shut then shakes his head. He’s not ready to get into this now. Not tonight. Tonight, he just wants Shiro’s mouth on him. How did they end up talking about this?

“I don’t know. Just… just shut up and kiss me!” he mutters irritably instead.

Shiro chuckles once, holding back just a little bit so that his breath ghosts over Keith’s mouth. “You’re the one doing most of the talking,” he whispers in amusement.

Keith growls and hauls Shiro close, dragging him over until he’s nestled in between Keith’s thighs. He’s so much taller it makes kissing a little awkward for him so he has to shimmy down slightly, making sure to drag his hands over Keith enough that Keith needs to cut off a kiss half way just to release the moan that builds up in the back of his throat.

“Takashi,” Keith groans. “If you’re going to do it, stop fucking teasing me.”

He accompanies the demand with a small tug on his husband’s hair, only to be rewarded by Shiro’s deep rumbling chuckle and the sensation of his clothes being tugged off and flung to the side.

He sighs contentedly under Shiro’s ministrations.

The air coming in through the skylight is cool and the breeze trails chilled fingers over his heated flesh, burning under Shiro’s touch. Under the stars like this it reminds him vaguely of the night of the garrison open day, how Shiro had pushed him up against the car, how badly Keith had wanted it that it didn’t matter they were in the open where anyone could see them.

All he had wanted was his husband, and that’s all he wants now.

He loosens his grip on Shiro’s hair as Shiro noses against his belly. He doesn’t want to stop his journey south but he doesn’t want to relinquish the hold all together. He pets gently as he fights the urge to whine, to urge Shiro to hurry up even as he’s savouring Shiro’s patient pace. Shiro kisses a line over Keith’s hip bones, a stripe on each side, his fingers curled into Keith’s thighs.

 _Oh_ , but he’s aching and desperate for Shiro to put his mouth on him or palm him with his hand, _anything_ but Keith bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut. His breath pants and shudders in his lungs.

“Tak… Takashi…”

Shiro’s mouth wanders closer to it’s target and Keith whimpers. Shiro’s mouth curves into a smile against his skin and it makes him jerk. “Takashi, please.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Keith hisses at the feigned innocent tone. His body is on fire. “Please. Come on, what’s taking so long?”

“Patience,” Shiro murmurs between soft kisses on the insides of his thighs. It makes Keith whimper.  “I won’t let you suffer.”

“You’re making me suffer right now,” Keith groans and he has the awareness to register his husband’s warm, indulgent chuckle a moment before Shiro’s bionic hand curls around him, gripping his base just before a hot, velvet heat encloses around him.

He jerks at the contact. “Oh, god, yeah… yeah, that’s it. _God,_ Shiro.”

Shiro hums around him and it’s all Keith can do not to shove a cushion in his mouth and bite down to muffle his sounds of pleasure. Shiro works him so well, he’s already learned him so well, hitting all the right notes with his mouth and hands and wet heat tugging and stroking and sucking. Keith melts into the cushions, his body nothing but a puddle of heat.

“Shiro-“

There’s another hum as Shiro uses more than just his mouth, twisting and flexing his hand in tandem with the trail of his tongue along Keith’s slit. He delves down deep, swallowing around him Keith clutches at the material bunching up under his hands.

“Shiro, I’m… I’m-“

He can’t utter anything more under the increase of tempo that Shiro punishes him under. It’s too much. The moonlight brushing over Shiro’s shoulders, cloaking them in shadows still isn’t enough to hide the look in Shiro’s eye as he stares up at Keith, his mouth full and spit dribbling down his chin. It’s too much and Keith can barely gasp out his name before his world turns white and he shatters.

It feels like a long minute before he can hear anything over the round of his heartbeat in his ear.  When he opens his eyes, he’s staring straight up into a vibrant starfield.

“I love how responsive you are,” Shiro says softly. He presses a lingering kiss to the inside of Keith’s thigh then meanders his way back up Keith’s body, more kisses on sweat soaked skin.

Even in the dim light, Keith can see the self-satisfied gleam in Shiro’s eye. “So beautiful.”

“You make me weak,” Keith says without really meaning to. He blames it on the sudden wave of fatigue that hits him and decides he’s too comfortable to care if it makes any sense. Right now he’s just struggling to be able to move his limbs again.

“I love you so much, Keith,” Shiro tells him, sliding a bionic finger under Keith’s jaw and tilting his chin up. Shiro’s eyes search his in the moonlight. “I never knew it was possible to love like this. You are my everything.”

Keith’s eyes drift closed.  “You’re mine, too. You’re the only one for me.”

“I should hope so. You’re getting double married to me in a few days.”

Keith’s heart is light despite the utter languid state of his body. He manages to summon enough strength to at least loop his arms around Shiro’s neck.

“I would marry you as many times as you asked me, you know.”

Shiro’s smile is blinding, even in the moonlight. “Even if you had to endure Lance’s plans for a buck’s night every time?”

“Yes,” Keith says firmly. “If that’s what it takes.”

Shiro leans in for another kiss, eyes dark.  “You’re that devoted to me, huh?”

“Yup.”

Shiro laughs softly. “Lucky me.”


	63. young hearts fade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just really wanted to write some Lance and Keith friendship fluff. This is very self indulgent, be warned.
> 
> [[moodboard link]](180201908636/ch-63-moodboard)

Pidge waits for him outside of the boutique jewellery store, leaning casually against the wall with one thumb working furiously over the phone she holds in her hand. In her other, she’s holding a bright blue drink with condensation that runs down the side and leaks onto her fingers. She doesn’t notice him straight away, engrossed as she is at whatever is on her phone. In fact, she doesn’t notice him at all until he looms up in front of her, blocking out the sunlight that shines on her auburn hair.

“Pidge.”

She squints up at him, guiltily shoving her phone into the back pocket of her ripped jeans. “Shiro, hey. What took you so long?”

“Am I late? Sorry, we were checking out the space Allura secured for Hunk’s new workspace and I got caught up in the paperwork.”

“Huh,” Pidge comments. Her expression shifts into something guarded at the mention of the lab but Shiro can’t get a good look at it before she turns and hoops her drink into the nearby trash can. She turns back and dries her hand on her thigh with a rough swipe. “Hunk said it was nice but he didn’t say you were actually taking it.”

“It’s not settled yet, but it has potential. A lot of potential.”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say more, but he’s not sure if Pidge and Hunk have been able to entirely work through their differences and he doesn’t want to rub salt on the wound if they haven’t. It wasn’t that Pidge didn’t support their venture, she did, but she was still hurt at their abrupt departure from the garrison.

Shiro doesn’t blame her, but it puts a little dampener on his excitement for the day.

He tries to reign that excitement in and focus instead on the reason he was meeting her. It’s been a while since he’s had to come to this part of the city, it’s a more upmarket area with boutique shops brimming with high fashion and worth more than basically his entire bank balance. Right now, they’re outside a jeweller, one who’s name he recognizes from the small box that had been pressed into his hand the day before the wedding.

“You ready?” Pidge asks him, picking up easily on his sudden flutter of nerves. Her smile is small but borders on mischievous.  “It’s not like you haven’t done this before.”

He gives her a dry glance. “Actually, Keith picked out the rings. I didn’t see them until the day before the wedding.”

“Good thing he has good taste then,” she grins over her shoulder.  “Would have sucked if you hated them.”

She pushes the door open and they step inside. The air-conditioning hits them like a blast and the cool air is a welcome relief from the heat outside but it’s the rows of precious jewels that makes his heart beat a little faster against his chest. He has to work hard to keep his expression neutral in the face of all the rows of diamonds and precious stones when he glances around.

“Wow,” he murmurs. “I wonder if Keith likes diamonds.”

He’s only half joking but Pidge spares a moment to roll her eyes. He barely notices, his eyes snagging on the rows of wedding bands under the glass towards the centre of the boutique. 

“Yours will be out the back,” Pidge tells him as the shop attendant steps forward from behind a soft blue curtain.

“Welcome,” she says with a warm smile. She’s a tiny thing with vibrant pink hair piled high on her head. “You must be here to collect your altered rings.”

“Yes, we are.”

The attendant nods then disappears back behind the curtain, leaving them alone.

Shiro glances around again, just as Pidge catches his eye.  She leans casually against the counter, elbows resting against the shiny glass and legs hooked at the ankle. Seeing her in civilian clothes is a jarring contrast to when she wears her uniform, as though it was only the insignia of her rank that held her up so rigid when on duty.

He gives her a small smile and leans beside her.

“What did you do to them anyway?” Shiro finally asks. He’s been curious ever since Lance had bounded in and cornered him in excitement, gushing with plans for his and Keith’s second ceremony. Their redo ceremony, Lance had called it. He trusted Lance enough that he easily handed over his wedding ring, but now he just wanted to know what the mystery was all about.

“You’ll see,” Pidge tells him cryptically, a small smirk dancing over her lips as she slyly fiddles with her glasses perched on the edge of her nose. There’s a shuffle of movement behind them and Pidge straightens up. “Here they are.”

The attendant smiles brightly as she steps forward holding a black velvet lined tray. She slides it onto the counter gently then steps back. In the centre of the tray lay two rings, two black titanium banks with an inner line of red on the smaller one and deep purpled on the larger ring. There was something else there too, but Shiro couldn’t see it clearly from this far away.

“Here,” Pidge picks one up, the red centred one and holds it out to him.

He takes it from her with care, knowing he was holding Keith’s wedding band between the thumb and forefinger of his bionic hand.

On the inside, the red is as shiny and as vibrant as ever but there’s an unfamiliar pattern there too, etched into the surface. It doesn’t seem like words and he turns the ring curiously, trying to make it out.

“It’s a soundwave of your voice,” Pidge says quietly. The shop is empty save for them and the attendant, only soft music playing over hidden speakers. She doesn’t need to raise her voice for him to hear her. “Saying Keith’s name. And yours has the wavelength of his voice saying yours.”

Pidge’s words immediately cause the echo of Keith’s voice to flitter through his mind. He briefly wonders which name, until he realises Keith’s never said his full name in the company of others.

“Oh,” he says roughly a moment later. He can’t wait to be wearing his ring once again, but with this added special touch. Something so personal and unique to what he has with Keith.

He’s surprised to find that his vision is slightly blurry as he swallows, his chest tight. He lays the ring onto his human palm with care, then reaches for his own ring. He’s not sure if it’s just his imagination, but they feel warm to touch, as though vibrating with something he can’t name. He places the rings side by side in his palm. “But, how-“

“It was easy,” Pidge shrugs. “You guys say each other’s names _a lot._ It wasn’t hard to get a recording.”

Shiro’s lips twitch in an embarrassed smile in spite of himself. He blinks away the moisture in his eyes and allows himself the luxury of a small laugh. This was just another thing that their friends were surprising them with, another way to show their support. He knows he’s lucky they care so much.

The attendant lets him inspect the rings for a moment longer before he hands them back. She turns away to bundle them up, placing them lovingly into a small black box, nestled in red velvet.

Shiro slides his human arm around Pidge’s petite shoulders and gives her a small hug. She feels delicate against his bulk. She squirms slightly before hugging him back, laughing a little and ducking her head in embarrassment.

“Don’t go getting sappy on me now,” she laughs. “Save that for Keith.”

“I… I love them, KT. I really do,” he says later as they leave the boutique, his precious cargo tucked away in the inner pocket of his jacket. Right above his heart. Something about that seems all too fitting. “And I know Keith will as well.”

Pidge smirks up at him. “Of course, he will.”

 

* * *

 

The nightclub Lance drags Keith to is well known in the city, covering a staggering four levels with multiple areas including a glass covered pool that doubles as a dance floor. Men and women made up as merfolk swim under their feet and rainbows of colourful strobe lights wash over the dancers that hang and twirl above the crowds.

The music thumps with a heavy beat that Keith can feel low in his gut and it’s hard to keep his focus on following Lance in the crowds. He has to stick close so as to not get separated as they push through the crowd towards one of the upper levels.

“How did you even manage to get us on the list to this place?” Keith leans in to ask when they’ve found the exclusive small booth that Lance had managed to secure. The electronic dance music is loud, but on this level, it’s muted just enough that they can actually hear each other.

“Lotor, actually,” Lance says with a weak grimace. “Turns out the guy has contacts _everywhere.”_

Keith raises his eyebrows in surprise then shrugs. “What about the others? Thought you said Hunk and Pidge were coming?”

Lance pulls another face, this time with more dramatics. “They couldn’t make it at such short notice, too busy working on their projects. Talk about weak. You know natural selection is going to be coming for them, right?”

Keith laughs at Lance’s put out expression just as a drink he doesn’t remember ordering is suddenly placed in front of him. It shimmers with blue and orange swirls and smells sickly sweet. The waitress places one in front of Lance too, then winks at them as she sashays off.

Keith eyes it warily. “What is this?”

“House special,” Lance informs him with a wide grin. He holds his glass up, waiting for Keith to raise his own. “Here’s to our lovable prickly pear getting married to the same man for the second time in less than three months!”

Keith wants to groan as he holds up his glass. It sounds faintly ridiculous when Lance puts it like that.  A small part of him would be embarrassed if it didn’t mean so much to him. And to Shiro. The idea of new vows had taken up root too deeply for him not to want it.

Lance taps his glass against Keith’s to get his attention. The music pulses in the background and patterns of pink and purple light slide over the table between them. Lance stares at him expectantly.

Keith draws a breath. “Well, here goes, I guess.”

Lance grins. “Bottoms up!” He knocks back the shot without hesitation, gasping once then thumping himself square in the middle of his chest. His eyes bulge slightly before he sucks in a deep breath. “Whew! That packs a punch. Come on, mullet. We’re supposed to be celebrating here.”

Keith pauses for half a beat then shrugs, quickly throwing back the drink. He barely tastes it. It burns as it rushes down his throat, landing in his gut and making his eyes water almost painfully. Everything seems immediately fuzzy around the edges.

“Holy shit,” he wheezes.

Lance laughs and signals for more drinks to the waitress, but this time Keith insists on something more sedate. The night is still young and the last thing Keith needs is to completely lose it before midnight. That would be too embarrassing to live with.

“So why this place?” Keith asks Lance after they’ve ordered and they’re lounging back against the walls of the booth. They have a good vantage point of the club from up here.  

“Why not?” Lance shrugs then rolls his eyes at Keith’s frown. He gestures in one direction with the wave of a hand and Keith turns his head to spy a small stage. A beautiful woman with long blue hair sways to the beat of the music, long legged and curvy, her body draped in sheer material and glittering body paint. From here, her skin glows lavender and she spins with controlled grace around a pole with her lips parted, casting sultry looks at the crowd hovering around her stage. Keith purses his lips but he doesn’t get a chance to speak before Lance kicks him under the table to drag his attention bac. He points Keith’s gaze to the _other_ side, this time where a very well-endowed man glistens with gold paint and glitter and sliding down a pole of his own.

Keith swallows dryly as Lance leers at him.

“Equal opportunity,” he smirks then makes an exaugurated show of wiggling his eyebrows before laughing and picking up his drink once again.

Keith tries to hide his embarrassment behind his glass, feigning disinterest but the pull is too strong to ignore and his gaze travels back towards the man on the stage in spite of himself. The dancer is beautiful, lean with shoulders broad enough to hold up the world and muscles that ripple under the lights with each flex and shift of movement. Keith can’t quite see his face clearly under the gold body paint but it seems pleasant enough under the slicked back deep amber shades of his hair.

He’s certainly attractive and mesmerizing in a way that makes Keith stare, but it’s not long before Keith finds himself mentally comparing this man in his head to someone else… and finding him lacking.

As thoughts of his husband creep in, his interest in the dancer fades all too quickly. Instead, he shifts his attention back to his drink, rubbing a thumb against the slight shimmer of condensation on the side idly.

Clubs like this had never been his first choice. Too many people, too much music, too many demands on his personal space and his smile. Lance enjoyed them though, so he swallowed back his discomfort and tagged along. Some nights it worked well to push away the dredges of an awful shift that clung to him, seeping in and coating the left-over stench of blood in his nose with something else. Those nights he was happy to be here, and so was Lance.

Tonight wasn’t one of those nights though.

Across from him in the booth, Lance holds his new drink, taking slow sips as he watches the dancers. The expression in his face is hard to read but it’s quiet, as though Lance has fallen deep into private thought.

The small downward twist of his mouth isn’t what Keith was expecting and when Lance looks up, Keith catches his eye with a small lift of his eyebrow.

“Yeah…” Keith says slowly when Lance is oddly silent. He watches Lance’s face carefully. “I’m not really feeling this.”

“Oh, thank god,” Lance sags suddenly in relief. He immediately sets down his drink and shoves it into the centre of the table. It’s hard to tell in the wash of pink and purple lights of the club but Keith wonders if he might be blushing. “All this kind of just makes me want to go home to Allura.”

Keith has to bite his tongue, thinking about his husband and feeling the absence of his wedding ring so clearly on his finger. He never felt the physical weight of it when it was there, but now without it, his hand felt heavy.

He slides another glance at his friend, experiencing a small wave of guilt that he’s not enjoying this like he should given that Lance had clearly gone to the trouble of arranging this little foray.  

Then Lance surprises him.

He leans forward across the table. “Wanna bail?”

Keith doesn’t hesitate. “Yup.”

Less than a beat later, they’re both sliding out of the booth and back on their way through the crowd once again. It’s busier now and the crowd of people start to press in too tightly around them to be comfortable. The energy crackle in the air is too much, making Keith’s teeth grit and his temper flare when an occasional hand reaches out to grope him as they shoulder past.

Finally, they make it though the doors and out onto the street. Keith sucks in a deep breath and blinks in the brightness of the street lights. The air out here tastes like car fumes but it’s better than the stench of body sweat overlaid with sickly sweet perfume from inside the club.

“Let’s go get the car,” Lance says, shoving his hands into his jacket. “Might as well find something else to do.”

“What was in that shot? Will you be alright to drive?”

They’ve seen too many accidents due to alcohol and poor judgement, Keith would rather catch an uber if there was any question and he knows Lance would too.

Lance shrugs. “My kit’s in the car, but the walk should sober me up.”

They start to wander past the row of people lined up still waiting to get into the exclusive club until Lance taps his arm, halting him for a moment. Keith waits on the curb as Lance chats briefly to some of the people in the line then he hands over the tokens they would have used courtesy of Lotor.

Lance gets a handful of warm cheers and a slap on the shoulder in thanks before he turns away.

“What?” Lance eyes him self-consciously when he falls back into step with Keith and they start to walk again.

“That was good of you.”

Lance shrugs. “No point that booth going to waste. Besides,” Lance slides him a cunning glance. “Not like Lotor can’t afford it.”

Keith grins wickedly. “True. It’s the least he can do.”

They walk in companionable silence for a little while.

“So,” Lance nudges him with an elbow. “What do you want to do now?”

“Go home and get some sleep?” Keith says, but he’s only half joking. Lance glares at him in disappointment until he realises Keith isn’t entirely serious. He kicks out a foot in retaliation to trip him but Keith dodges it with a smirk.

“Too slow, McClain,” he laughs.

They continue walking and the echoing thump of the nightclub fades into the distance. A cool breeze picks up and a small group of people stagger past. One girl totters by on high heels and in a dress that trails behind her like a shimmering tail. She flashes them both a seductive smile as she passes and Keith braces himself for one of Lance’s usual flirty quips only to be surprised when he doesn’t.

Instead, he finds himself the focus of his friend’s attention when he rounds on him. Lance walks backwards so they stay face to face and his expression becomes overtly thoughtful.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Keith demands suspiciously.

“We can’t just go home,” Lance tells him firmly. “Who knows when we’ll get another chance to do this again. I mean, just us, away from work. You can’t be a party pooper on this, Kogane.”

Keith lifts an eyebrow. He slows his stride, not entirely sure how long Lance plans on walking backwards and not entirely trusting his dexterity on the cracked sidewalks.

“That’s not my name anymore.”

“Wait, what?” Lance narrows his eyes at him, unsure if Keith is teasing. When Keith offers him a weak shrug, Lance lets out a low whistle. “Wow. So, you’re really Keith _Shirogane_ now?”

“As soon as the paperwork goes through.”

“Huh.” Lance swings back around until they’re walking side by side once again. He shoves his hands into his jacket a little deeper. Lance continues to shoot him small, speculative glances. Something is building but Keith knew that it would be.

“You know, you could have hyphenated,” Lance says casually after a short while. He knows Lance is probing but he’s prepared for it.

Keith shrugs. “It’s simpler this way.”

“Huh,” Lance says again. There’s another sideways glance. Keith isn’t bothered. Not over this. This feels too right to be defensive or self-conscious about. This feels a lot like where he was supposed to end up all along.

He likes it.

“Keith Shirogane,” Lance muses out loud a moment later. “Huh. Things really are changing. It suits you though.”

Keith can’t help a small grin at that. “Yeah,” he agrees. There’s a small lift of his chin. It’s just a shift of syllables but the meaning behind it blends into his bones. Something about it makes him want to stand taller, even if the space on his finger where his wedding band should sit is currently vacant. “It does.”

 

* * *

 

After a brief stop at a convenience store to stock up on junk food, they drive to the outskirts of the city. It feels like old times, of their first year as rookies and the simple ways they’d found to decompress when work got too much. Before they’d learned they couldn’t take every job to heart or it would bleed them to death before the year was out.

And just like old times, they squabble over music choices as they drive. Lance insists that he’s the driver so his selection trumps, and Keith insists that anything Lance picks is basically crap. Their tastes in music are similar but it doesn’t really matter what’s playing, one of them will find fault with it.

“Come on, man,” Lance protests when Keith flips the playlist to a new choice. “I’m the driver, I should pick.”

“It’s your car.”

“So? I’d let you drive it if you asked.”

“Okay, so pull over.”

“What?”

“I said pull over. Let me drive.”

“I’m not letting you drive Blue!”

“Why not?”

“She’s sensitive. She doesn’t need a hothead like you, do you, baby?” Lance pats the dashboard and right on cue, the car abruptly shudders unpleasantly.

They both blink.

“Lance,” Keith says slowly. “Are we even going to make it? I don’t feel like being stuck on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere-”

“Shhh, don’t listen to him, Blue,” Lance talks over Keith to the car. He pats the dash again and it settles back into it’s normal purr. “See,” he crows. “That was just her nodding.”

Keith rolls his eyes and promptly flicks the audio system to yet another new song.  “Do you remember where we’re going anyway?”

“Yeah, straight to the garrison base boundary then turn left and follow the road along the fence line.” Lance pauses, then frowns. “Or was it right?”

“You have no idea, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Dumbass.”

“Mullet.”

Keith snorts. “You need some new material.”

Lance gives him a mocking grin and silence reigns for a little while. The roads this far out of the city are quiet at this time of the night. There’s little to see outside in the darkness, just empty stretches of land and the occasional grouping of what might be warehouses in the distance. Definitely an industrial area that would feel bustling and thriving with activity during the day but eerily vacant in the dark of night.

Keith flips through his phone as Lance drives, debating whether or not to send Shiro a message when something itches against his cheek. He swats at it in irritation, almost dropping his phone into the footwell in the process.

Lance cackles and draws back his hand.

“What the hell was that? Lance!”

“That’s my name,” he says mockingly. “Don’t wear it out.”

Keith scrubs at the side of his face in irritation. “Just concentrate on driving, would you?“ He scrubs a little harder at his cheek then visibly shudders. “God, why is it _sticky!?”_

“You really want me to answer that?”

“I really want you to just drive.”

Lance grins and makes a popping noise with a smack of his lips. Another ten minutes or so pass before he frowns and peers through the windscreen.

“So, where _are_ we going anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Keith huffs. “You’re the one who came up with this idea.”

“I think I made a mistake. I don’t recognize any of these roads.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure this is the same area. That road feels familiar but this looks like a new housing estate or something.”

“It’s been a few years. Maybe some developers bought it.”

“Maybe,” Keith murmurs. “Wait, is that it?”

The road peters out into smooth bitumen and vacant lots, the area ready to be built on and turned into a housing estate. In the distance there’s a wide sign lit up with lights that advertise the estate in progress. Lance points at the sign.

“Hey, well we have a target.”

He parks the car on the side of the road, climbing out. The wind whistles lightly through the trees and the weather has cooled slightly. Not enough to cause a chill, but enough that Keith grabs his jacket from the car’s backseat before he climbs out.

Lance stands behind the car and pops the boot. Keith peers inside.  Sure enough, the white bag is in the same place it always was.

“Why do you even have golf clubs anyway?” Keith asks as Lance hauls it out. He stands it gingerly against the car’s bumper before he shuts the trunk but the bag begins to topple sideways so Keith grabs it before it can damage the paintwork.  “I know you don’t actually play.”

Lance grunts before he answers. “I dunno. Came with the car.”

“You’ve had this old thing since we were trainees-“

“Hey, hey, hey, no bad words against old Blue here,” Lance waggles a finger at him sternly. “We’re very happy together.”

They walk the short distance to the nearby hill. It’s almost a full moon and the grass is short and dry. It crunches under their feet as they walk.  When they get to the rise, Lance pulls out a club and hands one to Keith.

“You could upgrade you know,” Keith tells him. “It’s just a car.”

Lance pauses in his inspection of his club to give Keith a horrified glance.

“Hey, just because _you_ bagged yourself a sugar daddy that drives some kind of over powered sportscar–“

Lance pauses to line up his first shot. He makes a show of pointing the club at their target of the illuminate estate sign, closing one eye before he braces his feet and wiggles in place. Keith tries not to roll his eyes when Lance gives him a look over his shoulder. “Seriously, Keith. Shiro’s car is a beast.”

“Did you really just call Shiro a sugar daddy?”

“Yeah.” Lance takes his swing. “So?”

“Don’t ever say that again.”

Lance snickers. “Why, does the truth hurt?”

Keith gives him a flat look. “Right… Says the guy about to marry the heiress to Royal Altea and all its subsidiaries.”

Lance’s grin fades quickly at that. He shrugs and concentrates too hard on his stance and lining up the next shot. “Yeah well, we’ll see about that.”

Lance swings, avoiding Keith’s narrowed gaze.

“I thought you guys were solid? She just moved in.”

It takes a long moment for him to answer but Lance finally shrugs as he lines up another ball. Keith watches with half a frown as Lance swings and the ball sails into the distance. They’re using the new estate’s illuminated sign as a target.

“We are... I think. Just that every time we try to set a date… nothing happens.”

“Well,” Keith starts slowly. Allura’s been working closely with Shiro even around her Careflight hours, keeping them both busy. It’s been hard enough trying to coordinate his and Shiro’s new ceremony and Lance had shouldered most of that burden. “Maybe she’s just too busy to think about it right now.”

Lance takes another swing and there’s no mistaking the tight line of his lips. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Things will work themselves out, man. Just be patient.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lance gives him a small sideways glance. “God, who are you? You’re like a different person since you got married. Like, seriously.”

Keith rolls his eyes and steps close to thump Lance lightly on the arm. He’s become too well versed in Lance’s quirks over the years and he recognizes a deflection when he sees it. And it was unspoken between them. Lance was wide open and vulnerable, except when he wasn’t and Keith knew when to back off and respect that.

Lance laughs and leans away. “Okay, okay, wait, let me line this one up. Gonna go for that other sign. Watch.”

“Pfft, you can’t reach that. Your aim isn’t that good.”

“Hey, do you know what they called me in flight school? The tailor becau-“

“Because you stitched everyone up?” Keith cuts in dryly.

“I-“ Lance blinks. “Hey!”

Keith snickers when Lance reaches over jab Keith in the side with the golf club. “Ha, ha, very funny.”

Keith shoves the club aside before it can make contact with his body again. “Take the shot, tinker tailor. You talk too much.”

“Just tailor,” Lance mutters but he settles back into position and swings. The ball flies through the sky. It turns out to be a good shot, the ball landing soundly on the target Lance selected with an echoing thwack. Keith finds himself grudgingly impressed.

“Nice.”

“Your turn.”

Lance holds out the club to Keith and Keith lines himself up to take his own shot. It’s been years since they’ve done this but his body seems to remember the stances he needs. His first attempt is a good swing and the ball sails through the air and connects loudly against the sign advertising the new estate in the distance, right in the middle of the stylistically drawn artwork of a boring looking nuclear family.

Keith looks over his shoulder at Lance smugly.

“Damn,” Lance says, faintly surprised. “I forgot how freakishly good your eyesight is in the dark. You sure you’re completely human?”

Keith’s smug curve of his lips turns into a pursed line instead. “No,” he says sarcastically. “My eyes actually go yellow and I grow fangs when I’m mad.”

Lance narrows his eyes speculatively at him, as though one hundred percent believing his sarcasm as real and Keith tries to whack him with his golf club. Lance is too quick though and he dances out of reach laughing.

“Seriously?” Keith demands, holding back his exasperated laughter.

“I dunno man,” Lance drawls. His lips are twitching at the corners, making Keith want to laugh as well. “That kinda sounds more like a werewolf and you do get kinda grumpy around the full moon-”

“Oh my god,” Keith mutters with a huff. He turns his back on Lance and lines up another shot. “Why are we even talking about this?”

“I don’t know, tonight is all about embracing our inner idiots-“

“Isn’t that just a permanent state of mind for you?”

“God, why are we friends?” Lance steps close to shove him and Keith shoves back and some how they end up play wrestling and Keith cops a lanky elbow in his side that makes him wince. He retaliates by getting Lance into a headlock, yanking on his hair then releases him.

They step apart, both slightly panting and grinning like idiots.

“This is it, man,” Lance says. “This is probably the last time we can do this. You’re married, like, properly married. You have a husband… you _are_ a husband-“

Lance trails off abruptly, he sounds almost wistful. “What’s it like?”

A small prickle slips over the back of Keith’s neck. He looks away.

“What’s what like?” he asks warily.

Lance turns to him. The pale moonlight catches his eyes but it’s hard to read what’s in them. It feels a lot like their idiot shenanigans were on hold for the moment. It feels like Lance is searching for something.

Usually it’s Keith doing the searching.

“Being a husband?” Lance says quietly. He chews his lip briefly. “Is it… nah, never mind.”

Lance’s words tell Keith he wants to let it go, but there’s something in the way he leans close to Keith, as though ready to hang on his every word that tells him otherwise.

Keith draws in a deep breath.

“It’s… it’s nice,” he says, trying to ignore the sudden bloom of heat on his cheeks. At least it was dark out here, only the illumination of the sign and the car’s headlights washing over their legs. Hopefully Lance can’t see how bright his cheeks burn. “It’s scary too. But… it’s nice. It’s _good,”_ Keith says again, this time with more conviction.

For once Lance is quiet, hanging on his every word.

“The whole wedding thing isn’t the be all and end all,” he starts, aware of how much he oddly feels like a hypocrite right now. He’s about to have two weddings under his belt in the space of a few months and when you push past the romance of it, it feels indulgent and unnecessary.

Marriage wasn’t the sum of a relationship, was it, he thinks. It didn’t have to exist to give a relationship true validity. Look at Kolivan and Thace and Antok when he was still with them. Nothing there was official, but there was no doubt to the strength of the commitment they shared between them. Keith hadn’t thought that being married would mean so much to him with the role models his uncles provided, but somehow it just… did.

“But I like being able to say _my husband,”_ he continues. “It has weight. It’s solid. I like knowing where I stand. I like knowing he’s not going to leave.”

He says the last part without really meaning to. Lance’s stare turns curious.

“So, what would you have done if the experiment was a failure?”

Keith shifts, turning to shove his club back into the golf bag. He doesn’t know if they’re finished with their made-up game, but the activity gives him a moment to think, to try and sift through his thoughts.

“I tried not to think too much about that.”

“Would you have stuck with it anyway? Even if they paired you with someone you didn’t like? You’re stubborn, I bet you would have.”

Keith huffs at that. “I don’t know. Maybe? Probably not. I can barely tolerate you.”

Lance shoves at him weakly, but they both laugh. “Yet you’re still here, hanging out with me. See, stubborn. I still can’t believe you got married before I did. That wasn’t the plan.”

Keith wonders if they’re circling back to Allura but before he can open his mouth to say as much, Lance straightens up and gives himself a shake. “Okay, whoa. That’s enough. Let’s not make this weird. I need a drink. Where’s the booze?”

“Booze?”

Lance spins back to the car, popping open the boot to pull out a rug. Keith takes it from him wordlessly and shakes it out on a patch of grass not far from the car as Lance kills the headlights. Soon there’s nothing but the illumination of the estate sign in the distance and the distant galaxies twirling above their heads.

They settle themselves down onto the rug in the darkness. Keith’s always liked the way it crowds close, like a blanket settling over his shoulders to mute the harshness shown in the light. In the darkness he feels brave, like he’s someone else with the world at his feet.

Lance hands him a flask. It’s silver surface is cool under his fingers. “What’s this?”

“The hard stuff. The good stuff,” Lance emphasises. When Keith hesitates too long, Lance tugs it back out of Keith’s hand with a roll of his eyes and takes a swig before he hands it back. Keith uses his shirt to wipe the mouth hole, ignoring Lance’s muttered protest then taking a drink himself. It’s whiskey, but the good kind that slides effortlessly down his throat and doesn’t make him cough.

“Okay, yeah, that’s not so bad.”

“Better than whatever it was they gave us at the club,” Lance grins as he takes back the flask. They pass it backwards and forwards a few times without really talking, until Keith starts to feel a little too soft around the edges.

Then he hiccups.

Lance throws his head back and lets out a bark of laughter. He looks at Keith and shakes his head mournfully. “Amateur.”

“Shut the hell up,” Keith retorts with an embarrassed huff. He tries to elbow Lance, only to miss and he slumps onto his back against the rug. His heart beats slightly faster than usual in his chest, no doubt courtesy of the alcohol that’s settled into his veins.

Lance laughs again then flops down beside him. Keith finds himself face to face with eternity, the stretch of the sky and stars and space beyond anything he can imagine. _Shiro would love this,_ he thinks absently to himself as his thoughts drift.

“You ever think about what’s out there?” Lance slurs quietly a little later. His head has lolled against Keith’s shoulder and he’s warm and smells vaguely like coconuts. Keith experiences a sudden visceral pang of nostalgia for their rookie years when time out like this was an almost weekly occurrence. “Like all those weird UFO stuff people talk about. Reckon any of it is real?”

“Probably just the garrison doing experiments.”

“Even the cows?”

It takes Keith a second to push through the lazy fuzz of the alcohol currently warming his veins. “What?”

“Yeah,” Lance raises his arms up, gesturing vaguely at the heavens. “Cows. Cow abductions. Aliens coming down and taking cows. Cows in space.”

“Uh. I don’t-”

“Like, all those stars. All those planets. We can’t be the only ones, right?”

Keith grunts, his interest in the conversation immediately dissipating. He’s too drunk and a little too tired to think about that right now. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

Lance snickers. “Message received, team leader. God, I forgot how sensitive you are about that stuff.”

Keith doesn’t answer. He’s feeling mellow now, warm on the inside that’s not just his friendship with Lance. He doesn’t want to spoil it.

They both go quiet, still staring up at the sky. A shooting star streaks past and Keith tries to think of a wish but it’s gone before he can formulate something more specific other than _be happy_.

A few moments after that, Lance starts to snore.

He knew they would be spending the night out here and he thinks about shuffling around on the rug to find a more comfortable position only to realise his limbs feel too heavy to move. He does manage to dig into his pocket for his phone though and he holds it up carefully. The last thing he needs is to drop it on his face and give himself a black eye a few days out from when he’s going to be putting on his wedding suit and going through the process all over again.

As his thoughts turn to the upcoming second ceremony, they turn to his husband too. He carefully unlocks his phone and snaps a selfie of Lance passed out on his shoulder and shoots it off to Shiro without thinking too much about it.

It’s not long before he gets a message back.

_I have so many questions._

Keith realises belatedly that Shiro thinks they’re still in the city. 

_Bailed on cluB. Watchig stars outide city now. Kind fo drig_

_Diun_

_fuck!_

_DRU NK_

He gets back a row of laughing emojis then another message. 

_Need an extraction?_

Keith considers it for half a moment. Shiro wouldn’t hesitate to drive out to collect them and take them home. He’d probably be here in under an hour and they could easily come back to get Lance’s car in the morning.

But something tugs inside his chest that makes him want to turn down the offer. It’s a clear night and it’s been years since he’d spent time like this with Lance away from work, just as friends and not colleagues. When Lance had got with Allura, it had all changed, and while Keith has never begrudged them their happiness, he would be lying if he didn’t miss some of the stupid shit Lance was guaranteed to drag him into too.

And Lance was right. Things were changing, they were growing up. He was married, Lance not far off marriage himself… there were different priorities now, and while they would always be close, the parameters of their friendship were changing too.

It makes him a little sad to realise he hadn’t appreciated Lance like he should when he had the chance and who knows if they’ll ever get a chance do this again?

_No wer’re good. C U in the AM_

There’s a beat and then a photo comes through of Shiro in their bed, pillows piled up behind his head and Black beside him. He’s shirtless of course, and smiling. That special little smile only Keith gets to see. Keith grins at the image and sighs. God, he loves that man. He loves Shiro with every fibre of his soul, through this lifetime and the next, forever into eternity, even longer than when the stars burn out.

_Good night, baby._

Keith smiles and wonders briefly if it would be weird to kiss his phone then remembers he’s drunk and who the fuck cares before he tucks his phone back into his pocket and shuffles on the rug beside Lance. 

He watches the stars until he falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

It’s early in the morning after an all too cheery Lance deposits an all too grumpy Keith back at their townhouse.

Shiro stifles his amusement at his husband’s glowering expression, plucks a few stray bits of grass out of his hair and sends him upstairs. It’s later, after Keith has managed to shower, eat and sleep and not necessarily in that order, that he trudges across the living room and curls up on the couch beside Shiro.

“Hey,” Shiro greets him. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Keith mumbles. He looks faintly embarrassed but Shiro finds it endearing. He’d missed Keith in their bed the night before but he wasn’t entirely unused to it. “I didn’t realise I drank so much. Lance must have spiked it.”

Shiro barely manages to hold back his laughter. “Mmm, I’m sure he did.”

Keith pulls a face then sighs and falls back against the couch with his eyes closed and a big sigh falls from his chest. He still seems a little hungover but it might have more to do with the fact he’d spent the night on the hard ground outside than in a warm bed with a soft mattress. His hair is wilder than usual today, a raven hued mess around his head that has Shiro itching to runs his hands through.

Instead, he runs a wide palm over Keith’s knee soothingly before he picks up his datapad and continues reading through the words on his screen. It’s hard to concentrate. He’s not sure if the words come easier or harder with Keith beside him. His presence is calming and distracting all at once.

“What are you working on?” Keith asks after a while.

Shiro glances over at him. “My vows actually. I figured twelve pages might be a little much.”

Keith’s eyes blink open in alarm then he manages to chuckle quietly at Shiro’s teasing expression. “Twelve pages, huh? You’re going to be disappointed with mine then.”

“Why? How many pages have you got?”

Keith shrugs then leans across to the coffee table. He picks up the black spiral bound sketchbook and a pencil, flipping it open as he draws up one knee and balances his notebook against it.  

Shiro’s noticed this about Keith, another one of his endearing little quirks he probably doesn’t think twice about but somehow manages to steal inside Shiro’s chest and stay there, nestled in amongst all the other things he loves so much about his husband.

Low tech.

Keith prefers old paperbacks to Shiro’s e-reader. He prefers a notepad and a pencil over the simplicity and ease of a digital tablet. He wears a watch on his right wrist despite any time keeping he might need on his phone.

And his phone is worn and generations old enough that it has Shiro side eyeing it and contemplating if it would be appropriate to splurge and purchase his husband something newer and sleeker.

“Okay, really, how many?” he finally asks, placing the tablet down on his lap a short time later.  They’ve both been working silently side by side for almost an hour, just content to be nearby each other but as the minutes tick by, Shiro finds himself more and more curious until it becomes an itch he can’t scratch.

Their new ceremony was in less than twenty-four hours but somehow it still feels like too long to wait when there’s a preview right here.

Keith gives him a measured look, as though he knows exactly the trail Shiro’s thoughts wander down. There’s a spark of something that looks alarmingly like a taunt in his eye.

“Don’t know,” he says.

Shiro narrows his eyes. His gaze drops to the notebook in Keith’s hands. “Let me see.”

“No,” Keith laughs and shoves at him with his foot when Shiro tries to hold out a hand for it. Keith has the better vantage point, leaning back in the corner of the L shaped lounge with his feet resting in Shiro’s lap. 

“Why not?”

“Because,” Keith’s cheeks turn pink. “It’s a surprise.”

“I’ll show you mine,” Shiro promises cajolingly but it doesn’t work because Keith drops his gaze to Shiro’s crotch. His sly grin is wicked.

“I’ve seen yours.”

Shiro rolls his eyes and decides to let his bionic hand do the rest of the talking for him. He reaches out to pluck the notebook out of Keith’s hands. He expected Keith to fight him on it more than he does but Keith doesn’t even make even a murmur of protest.

Shiro flips through the pages. “Keith,” he says softly, his chest suddenly tight. “These are just sketches of me.”

Keith’s stare is unflinching. “Yep.”

He waits for a moment before he leans over to take the notebook back but Shiro can’t seem to bring himself to let it go. He retains his hold on it, trying to find a way to speak around the thick lump in his throat.

Keith, in contrast, frowns briefly then shrugs, relinquishing his grasp and falling back against the couch.

Shiro looks through the pages again. The sketches fill so many pages, some with simple doodles, all the way to some incredibly detailed portraits of his face that seeing Keith’s talent leaves him a little breathless. He doesn’t know a lot about art but the way Keith captures his likeness makes his heart tug painfully against his chest. He looks happy in these sketches, an array of expressions with his mouth curved up and eyes bright. 

“Is this how you see me?” he asks quietly. He can’t look away.

It takes a moment for Keith to answer. His hand closes over Shiro’s knee, warm and steady. Grounding.

“Yes,” he answers simply. “You’re beautiful, Takashi.”

It takes Shiro a good minute to pull himself together and not fall into the tears building at the back of his throat. It’s yet another gift Keith has given him, something precious he can’t put words to. 

He hands the book back to his husband and manages to clear his throat roughly.

“So, does that mean you’ve finished writing your new vows?”

Keith shifts and drops his gaze.  “No.”

There’s a beat of silence and Shiro tries to keep the mingled disapproval and concern out of his voice. “Keith.”

“I don’t need to,” Keith tosses his head, eyes suddenly blazing. “I know exactly what I’m going to say.”

“Keith.”

“Mmhmm?”

“You can’t just wing this.”

Keith’s lips quirk. “Why not?”

“Because,” Shiro exclaims, flustered. “This are the promises that will affect the rest of our lives-“

“It bothers you doesn’t it? That I haven't written anything down yet?” Keith asks in amusement. Then he gives Shiro a considering look that has Shiro blinking once.

Keith slowly puts down the sketchbook and climbs across the couch. Shiro suddenly and very happily finds himself nestled under a lapful of Keith. His husband is warm and heavy and smiling that little smile that makes Shiro melt all the way inside.  

“No,” he lies.

Keith chuckles, giving him a knowing glance. “Yes it does. Not being prepared. Not being organised, like a good little solider shou-“

“God,” Shiro mutters. His face feels hot.  “You have too much sass. Glad I wasn’t your CO.”

Keith huffs out a small laugh at Shiro’s put out tone. “Yeah, I would have run circles around you.”

“Oh, yeah? You think so, huh? You saw my records. Reckon you could have even come close, hotshot?”

“You know I could have, old timer.”

Keith holds his gaze for a beat before they both dissolve into soft laughter. He presses their foreheads together and their breath mingles softly. Keith like this is his favourite. All his walls are down, but his spark is right up. His teasing carries a challenge, one that Shiro happily welcomes. No one had bothered to challenge him since the accident. Too busy treating him like a scared, broken thing. He’s grateful Keith doesn’t see him that way.

“What?” Keith asks curiously when the silence between them lingers a moment too long.

Shiro clears his throat, pulling himself back into the present and pushing away the past. This was what mattered now. Just him, and Keith and their life they were going to build together. 

He raises an eyebrow. “You underestimate me. I can wing it too, you know.”

“Yeah?” Keith doesn’t look convinced and something about that makes Shiro’s pride feel mildly affronted. “Do it now then.”

Shiro pauses. “What?”

“Prove it. Wing it now.”

He eyes Keith for a heartbeat. Keith looks at him with a mouth curved into a smile of triumph.

“Alright,” he says firmly, trying not to feel smug at the blatant surprise in Keith’s expression. So, Keith didn’t expect him to rise to the bait, huh?

Shiro draws in a breath. “I promise to love you, and support you, and put up with your snoring and bad temper-“

Keith scowls in mock indignation and tries to poke him in the side but Shiro twists out of the way and laughs. He takes advantage of his larger build to pull Keith into his chest, pinning his arms to his side so he can’t do anything but let out a muttered growl against Shiro’s collarbone. Shiro lowers his tone, turning his voice soft like velvet as he speaks into Keith’s ear.

Then he closes his eyes and opens his heart. 

“Keith, I know my heart is safe in your hands and I promise that yours is safe in mine. I promise I’ll always be there right beside you, no matter what life throws at us. I promise to love you until my dying breath…”

Keith goes still against him. So still, save for the faintest tremor that shivers down his back.

Shiro lets the words hang, before they scatter like stardust in the air around them then Keith pushes up, his hands flat against Shiro’s chest and his eyes shiny. 

“Well, look at you,” he says weakly, ducking his head until his eyes are masked by his hair. He’s affected deeply. “Winging it like a pro.”

It had been so easy to say. So easy to speak from the heart when he looks into Keith’s eyes and sees his whole universe there. Maybe Keith was right. Maybe he should just wing it.

“You know, one day we’re going to have to live up to all these promises,” he tries to say, but his throat is too tight to hide the emotion still making his heart thunder in his ears.

Keith presses close, his lips seeking out Shiro’s throat, the touch warm and soft but possessive.

“We have our whole lives for that,” Keith murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”


	64. say it again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i... i have no explanation for this other than it's what i needed to write.
> 
> I highly recommend listening to this song if you don't know it though [ [Have It All by Jason Mraz, acoustic version]](https://youtu.be/S66bDri7IA0), for reasons that will become clear later. (it's also on the vol 3 spotify playlist)

The twilight is already setting in when the fairy lights that curl over the trees and fragrant bushes in the Holts backyard spring to life. It’s beautiful, transformed into a fairy tale setting for Shiro’s own happy ending and he’s never been more grateful to his family for indulging him on this. Or to Keith.

He glances at him now, giving his hand wrapped so tightly in his a warm squeeze as they walk together down the candlelit path. Pidge and Lance had been working hard to create this, alongside with Allura who’d taken charge of the flowers. And there were flowers everywhere, in big bunches on the long table laid out on the grass, tied to the white garden chairs arranged in two small rows, even the soft pale petals that sit against the dark grey lapels of his wedding suit.

“You ready for this?” he whispers. Keith meets his glance with a small smile. He doesn’t seem nervous, not this time around. And he looks breathtaking once again in his deep burgundy suit. They opted to forgo bows and ties this time and his white shirt is open enough to hint at the sharp line of his collarbones and his dark hair is pushed back from his face, leaving himself nowhere to hide.

The significance of that isn’t lost on Shiro.

“Ready,” Keith says back and together they walk down the path to where their friends and family wait for them.

 

* * *

 

Keith tries to hold onto Shiro’s hand, wanting to keep that contact between them to soothe the sudden rapid pulse of his heartrate but they’re pulled apart before he realises it. He can’t begrudge it, not when he’s immediately swallowed up in warmth and soft laughter and he receives a kiss from Allura and hugs from Pidge and Hunk and Colleen. Matt shakes his hand vigorously and even Lotor, staying close to Matt’s side sticks out a hand and Keith finds them sharing a knowing look.

“No interviews this time, right?”

Lotor chuckles dryly, inclining his head. “No, and I apologise for having to put you through those the first time around.”

Keith curls his lip in a half smile. “Turns out it was worth it.”

He’s pulled away again, by Sam this time who squeezes his shoulder, eyes too watery and his voice too choked up for Keith to be able to make out exactly what he’s saying. He moves aside and then Kolivan is there, folding Keith into a smothering embrace the likes of he hasn’t experienced since he was in preschool. It startles him, but he remembers before it’s too late to hug Kolivan back, burying his face in his uncle’s broad chest. His shirt carries the scent of his childhood, a visceral memory that transports Keith back to a time he was nothing more than a scared kid, clinging to his uncle’s leg. It’s just a flash and then it’s gone, but it’s enough to bring up a wealth of gratitude.

He doesn’t quite let go when Kolivan tries to draw back.

“Thank you,” he says in a voice that feels too raspy to be his. “I don’t know if I’ve ever said it out loud. But thank you, For everything.”

For half a beat, Kolivan looks mournful, but then Thace moves in and the moment changes. Thace doesn’t hesitate to grasp Keith’s shoulders and pin him with a look that makes Keith flush and then he’s once again enveloped into another hug. Thace squeezes him so tightly he wonders briefly if he might crack a rib.

“Ugh, okay, let me go-“

Thace releases him with a chuckle and a light pat to his cheek that makes Keith roll his eyes. He had always hated it when they did that, it had felt patronizing when he was just a bad tempered kid, but now it carries the affection of a lifetime. Thace might not be related to him by blood, but he stood with Antok and Kolivan to protect him and raise him into who he’d become today.

Thace catches the look in his eyes though, and his expression softens. “I know,” he says softly. “He would have enjoyed this.”

Keith’s throat gets tight. “He probably would made a terrible speech.”

Thace lets out a small chuckle at that. “He would have, and he would have delighted in seeing your face turn bright red or in seeing how far he could poke at Shiro before he cracked.”

“He’d have to work hard, Shiro has the patience of a saint.”

“He has to,” Thace grins and too late Keith realises the opening he’s just given his uncle. He rolls his eyes again, knowing exactly what’s coming but understanding the gentle teasing and affection behind it as well. “To be able to handle you.”

Keith laughs.

Eventually Thace moves away only for a familiar wavy bob to catch his attention. He barely has time to blink before Veronica is there, grasping his hand tightly, smiling with shiny eyes. She looks like she’s trying hard to blink away the wetness.

“Veronica, you’re here.”

She yanks him into a hug and it’s one of those types of hugs he knows from experience he won’t be able to extradite himself from so all he does is hold on until she deigns to let him go. When she pulls back, she sniffs and plucks out a tissue to dab at her eyes under the frame of her glasses.

“I told Lance if he didn’t let me come tonight, I’d break his wrist,” she whispers conspiratorially, making Keith chuckle in spite of himself. Lance, hovering nearby, pulls a face.

“It’s true, she did.”

Keith laughs again. Laughs because it’s easier to laugh than it is to give into the strange pricks behind his eyes. His chest feels so tight, so does his throat and he’s overwhelmed by affection being shoved his way.

“I’m glad,” he manages to say. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yes, especially since I missed it the first time around. So good of you to do a repeat for my benefit.”

“Where’s the little guy?”

“At home with his father. I can’t stay long but…I’m so happy for you,” she tells him, holding one of his hands in both of hers. She stares into his eyes. She’s slightly taller than him, and he has to lift his chin to meet her gaze. “You deserve this, Keith. You deserve all of this.”

He can’t quite manage an answer, but it’s okay because Veronica doesn’t expect one. She pulls him into another hug and he whispers a rough “Thanks, Ronnie,” against her hair and then she releases him and steps away.

Keith pauses to catch his breath, ready to snatch the free moment to make his way back to Shiro’s side, only to have another figure step forward. Someone he had expected to see even less but somehow her prescence hits him right in the centre of his chest at the warm way she’s smiling at him.

“Hello, Keith.”

“Trigel.”

Her eyes are soft, vividly green reflecting the verdant glow of her dress. Her hair falls in soft hazel curls to frame her face. She seems younger away from the stresses of work and out of uniform and although she’s smiling warmly, there’s a hint of sadness behind her eyes too.

Keith feels it scrape against his heart and wonders if this is hard for her.

Without a word, he steps forward, meeting her halfway as she opens her arms to draw him into a gentle hug. She lets her hands rest against his shoulders and stares into his face, an assessing sort of expression resting against her smile. He can’t escape the intensity of her gaze and he reads more there than anything she could say out loud.

“I’m proud of you for doing this,” she tells him, her voice a little bit cracked. “I’m proud of you for making this your own. You and Shiro. It’s a beautiful idea, redoing your vows like this.”

“We didn’t get a say in them last time.”

“I understand. If I had had the chance, I… I would have done this too.”

The sadness in Trigel’s eyes comes to the fore for a moment then she blinks it away before Keith can answer. She drops her hands and gives an embarrassed laugh, tugging Keith in for another quick hug.

“I really do with you every happiness, Keith,” she whispers into his ear.

“Trigel, I’m glad you could make it.”

They both glance up when Shiro looms up beside Keith. Shiro places one hand against Keith’s back, in the space between his shoulder blades, warm and heavy enough that Keith can feel it through even his suit jacket.

He looks between Trigel and Shiro and at the warm way they greet each other and the realization slides over him that it had been Shiro that arranged for her to come tonight, not Lance and Allura like he’d initially assumed. He only half listens in to the warm way Trigel and Shiro talk quietly between themselves and is once again hit with a wave of affection towards his husband so hard it leaves him breathless.

“Congratulations again,” Trigel is saying, shaking Shiro’s bionic hand firmly when Keith tunes back in.  When she moves away, Shiro turns to him with one eyebrow raised. His hand is still a steady pressure on his back.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith murmurs then he looks up at his husband with a quirk of his lips. “More than okay.”

 

* * *

 

It’s slightly backwards the way they’re doing things tonight, sharing congratulations and embraces with their guests before they stand in front of them and exchange new vows but to Shiro, it makes sense. Wasn’t their entire relationship done differently? Jumping straight into a commitment that would change both their lives before they even knew each other’s names? The result of the experiment changed everything, and not just them.

Their lives, but their friends’ lives, their family’s lives too.

He hangs back for a moment, watching out of the corner of his eye as Keith gets swallowed up in an embrace between his uncles. Judging by the surprised look on Keith’s face, a show of affection like that may not be too common and the sight of it now makes Shiro feel unbelievably warm on the inside.

“I haven’t seen you smile this bright since before the crash,” Colleen says to him. She wraps her arm around his and leans into his side. She’s tiny like Pidge, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder but the warmth she brings is all encompassing.

“I didn’t realise how much I needed this,” Shiro confesses after a moment. “Needed him.”

“He loves you.”

“He makes me feel alive again. Seeing myself how he sees me-“ Shiro can’t finish, the sudden lump in this throat stealing his words. “To think I almost missed this-“

“You made the right decision, _caro._ You wouldn’t have been as happy up there as you would be with him.”

It takes him a moment to tear his gaze away from Keith. Watching him surrounded by the people that loved them both. It still niggles at him sometimes, late at night when it’s quiet and moon leaks its light into their bedroom, when Keith is still beside him, deep asleep. He wonders if this feeling will ever fade. If the intensity he experiences whenever Keith looks at him will ever settle into something less that will make him regret his choice.

His brain reminds him he might, but his heart… his heart screams _no_. His heart finds the shape of Keith and nothing has ever made him feel more grounded or more at home as the deep indigo hue of his husband’s eyes.

“I think you’re right, Colleen,” he answers before a thought occurs to him. He half turns, facing her full on. “You never went, did you?”

She smiles at him. “No. I fell in love instead.”

“And you didn’t regret it?”

She reaches up to touch her fingers against his cheek. “No,” she says softly, glancing around at the faces of her family, at Pidge and Matt and Sam. Then she looks up at him.  “Because I have all of you, and that is so much better.”

 

* * *

 

Sam’s voice rings out, drawing everyone’s attention towards him and cutting through the chatter of the assembled group.  The same butterflies that had plagued him the first time around return in full force, beating their wings against the insides of Keith’s belly.

The last time he’d had to walk up the aisle alone, but this time there wasn’t an aisle and he wasn’t alone and he has to mentally remind himself to relax when he catches sight of Shiro’s small wince and glance down at their joined hands to realise he’s gripping Shiro just a little too tight.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“Bit different to the first time we did this, huh?”

“Yeah,” Keith manages to snort. “I actually know your name this time.”

Shiro huffs out a small laugh but it slips quickly. Keith wonders if he’s feeling the nerves as much as Keith is. It’s an echo of the first time they were here, the first time they’d stood here in their suits, small flowers on their lapels and their friends watching on and holding hands ready to step into the rest of their lives together.

“Hey,” he whispers, tugging once on their joined hands.

Shiro glances down at him curiously.

“United front,” Keith says then as everyone seems to move around them, settling into the chairs that sit on the grass, ready for the ceremony. They stand under the canopy of a large tree, under branches decorated with lanterns and the electric blue sky deepens to black. He can feel the eyes of their guests on them and he’s aware of Sam standing patiently a little to the side but right now he’s focused only on his husband.  “You and me against the universe, remember?”

Shiro’s smile is radiant and his gaze when it falls on Keith is soft and full of stars.

He murmurs quietly, so only Keith can hear. “Yeah, you and me, baby.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro doesn’t remember the words Sam used to welcome everyone or to explain exactly why they were here doing this all over again. It made sense that he would officiate their small redo ceremony, after all it was the lovingly tended gardens in his backyard they were using and he was proud to have been asked to do this for them, so much so that a small part of Shiro regretted not asking Sam to officiate the first time around too.

But the first time around, so much had been out of their hands.

Now though… now makes him smile when it’s his turn to speak first and he lets himself fall headlong into his husband’s eyes. He hopes these new vows do them justice. He hopes they’re what Keith wants to hear.

“Keith,” he starts, holding both of Keith’s hands in his. His voice already rough with all the emotion pushing against the inside of his chest and he has to pause, to close his eyes briefly and gather himself before he can continue. “Keith,” he says, stronger this time. “From the moment we met, you have surprised me. You have distracted me, captivated me and challenged me in a way that no one ever has and no one ever will. I’ve fallen in love with you deeply, again and again, countless times and without reservation. I promise to be true to you, to uplift and support you, to frustrate and challenge you and to share with you the most beautiful moments of this life we’re going to have together.”

He stops to draw a breath then his mouth quirks up into a smile, a gentle one that makes his next words soft with teasing.

“And someday, if the stars align,” he says, still smiling. “I might even let you win an argument.” 

There’s a rumble of soft laughter behind them. Keith’s head dips forward and he gasps slightly, shoulders shaking with a breathless chuckle. When he looks back up at Shiro, his eyes are watery and for the millionth time, Shiro thinks about how he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Without thinking, he rubs his thumb across the back of Keith’s knuckles, drawing strength from the contact. He can feel the bond between them now as almost a physical entity, bright and strong and there to sustain them until they draw their last breath. He has to marvel at the strength of it. At the strength of what he carries inside him for Keith.

He gazes into Keith’s eyes, wondering if Keith understands. If Keith knows the words he says out loud won’t ever be enough to truly reflect the strength of his love, his hopes for their future and the gratitude he has that Keith loves him back.

“Keith,” he whispers, noting the slight tremble of Keith’s chin. A silver line tracks down his cheek as Shiro continues his vow. “I promise to have the patience that love demands, to speak when words are needed and to share in the silence when they are not. No matter what trials we encounter together, or how much time passes, I know that our love will never fade. That we will always find strength in one another and that we will continue to grow side by side. I believe in the truth of what we are, what we share and what we have and I will love you always, with every beat of my heart.”

 

* * *

 

Keith starts to cry silently somewhere in the spaces between Shiro’s words.

Right there, in front of anyone who’s ever mattered in his life, he lets the tears fall down his face.

He doesn’t even have his hair to hide behind.

And he doesn’t care, because all he can see is the gentle way Shiro looks at him. Shiro who fell in love with him and cares for him and trusts him and looks at him and sees something worth having. Shiro, who would walk away from everything he’s ever known because he’s found something better and wants to take Keith with him.

Shiro, who’s heart is so big and strong he makes Keith want to protect it from anyone who might want to hurt him, from a world that was sometimes ugly and heartless.

Shiro… that Keith loves so fiercely he wonders how he ever lived without him, only to realise he never really did.

His hands tremble in Shiro’s, the echo of Shiro’s vows still ringing in his ears. A part of him tries to yell at him that he’s not worth it, that he doesn’t deserve those words Shiro says to him so earnestly, so passionately in front of their joint worlds. He doesn’t listen to it. He latches onto that golden thread of love that binds them and holds it tight, drawing in the strength that Shiro’s love offers him.

Strength and beauty and all things that make his universe shine so brightly even when darkness tries to nudge and lick at the edges.

“Shiro,” he starts, before he chokes on something that sounds like a sob and he shudders. “Fuck,” he mutters, frustrated that he can’t seem to make his mouth work. Too late he realises Shiro is trying not to laugh at his softly uttered curse.

“Take your time,” Shiro whispers and he rubs his thumb over the back of Keith’s knuckles soothingly once again. Keith focuses on that touch, the warm, smooth touch of his artificial fingers and the slight callouses on his human hand. Keith knows that touch. That touch is home.

“Okay,” he sucks in a breath, willing the sudden rapid-fire beat of his heart to settle. His cheeks feel wet but to wipe away the tears would be to take his hand away from Shiro’s grasp and he refuses to let go of his anchor for even a second. What would be the point, when in a few moments they would end up wet all over again. “Okay,” he says for the second time, allowing his eyes to drift close for a beat as he draws in one long deep breath and centres himself.

He can do this. He’s been carrying these words around in his heart since the moment Shiro first took his hand. He doesn’t want to hide them anymore. He wants Shiro to have them.

Not Shiro, he remembers suddenly.

He opens his eyes then and looks up, straight into the shimmering silver of his husband’s eyes. Shiro’s breathing is still a little fast, his hand feels slightly clammy. He’s just as affected as Keith is and Keith has long since forgotten they have an audience.

“Takashi,” he begins, only to witness Shiro’s soft, sharp inhalation of breath at the sound of his birthname. It makes Keith smile slightly, emboldens him. He trains his gaze on Shiro’s face, finally giving free reign to everything that resides inside his heart. “Takashi, I want so badly to be able to say out loud all the love I have for you, but words aren’t enough. A million promises aren’t enough and... I’m not great with words anyway.”

Shiro gives his fingers an encouraging squeeze when he pauses to draw a breath. He concentrates on the way Shiro’s eyes seem to shift into a gunmetal grey as the light fades around them.

“I know we started this journey together as strangers, that we took a leap of faith that most people would consider us to be crazy to do but I can’t help but think even without the experiment, we would have found each other anyway. My heart already knew who you were from the first moment I saw you. You are my home, my life, my everything and I choose to spend today and all of my tomorrows with you.”

With each word, his heart feels lighter and his smile gets braver and his voice rings stronger.

“I promise to always protect you from harm. I will stand beside you when your days are dark and when they are bright. I will love you in good times and in bad, when life seems easy and when it gets hard. When our love is simple, and when it is an effort.”

He pauses, remembering Shiro’s words. “I promise to listen to your advice… and maybe even occasionally take it.”

Shiro lets loose a warm laugh at that and it’s echoed by the friends and family Keith had all but forgotten were there. He finds himself suddenly lost in the joy of Shiro’s smile, the way he mouths _I love you_ around his chuckling and Keith has to force himself back to remember the rest of his vows.

He tightens his grip, only to find Shiro gripping him just as tightly and they share a shaky laugh between them before he manages to continue. 

“Most of all,” he swallows. “I promise to remember that we are not perfect, only perfect for each other. I promise to love you without hesitation or boundaries from this day forward… for the rest of my life.”

There’s moisture clinging to his eyelashes when he finishes speaking and he tries to blink them away. Shiro sniffs delicately then chuckles warmly again and the sound of it goes right to Keith’s heart. It’s beautiful and joyful and it makes him laugh too because they did it. They finally did it, they finally made their promises in their own words and he’s not sure if anyone will ever understand how important it was that he hears those vows from Shiro but it’s as though the universe has shifted just a little bit tighter around them, their bond stronger than ever and forever indominable.

But his hand still remains bare.

As though catching his thoughts, Shiro slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out a ring. A shining black band that glints ruby red on the inner side. He holds Keith’s hand gently, lining the ring up with his finger. He pauses just long enough for Keith to twitch in anticipation. He’s wanted his ring back since the moment he’d handed it to Lance a week ago and briefly he wonders if it’s a different one to his original ring but he can’t follow that thought any further because Shiro is saying his name.

He looks up, back into the face of the man he loves so much. Shiro gives him a knowing smile.

“Keith, this ring already means so much but now it’s a promise. It’s a promise that you will never have to face this world alone. No matter what, I will always be with you.”

Shiro nudges the ring, sliding it effortlessly back over Keith’s finger until it settles back into the spot it belongs. Something inside of him cracks and loosens at the sight and the final bit of tension he carries is released.

It feels right. It feels good. And he wants Shiro to feel the same.

He reaches into his own pocket, drawing out Shiro’s black and violet band. He’s seen the new etching on the inside, knowing that his carries a similar one. He holds Shiro’s human hand in his, lining up the band with Shiro’s finger. His hands tremble ever so slightly but both of them pretend not to notice.

“Takashi,” he says, holding the ring. “This ring is a symbol of my promise to you. That I'll be there to fight your battles for you if you grow weak, to stand beside you when you are strong, to love you and cherish you for all the days of my life.”

He guides the ring over Shiro’s finger, back to its rightful place. Shiro lets out a small exhale Keith hadn’t realised he had been holding and before Keith can release his hand on his own, Shiro tugs it away only to place both of his palms on Keith’s cheeks, cupping his face tenderly as he leans in to press their lips together.

Keith can’t help his small sob into the kiss. He raises his own hands up, covering Shiro’s and gripping tight. He feels shaky now, weak with relief but buoyed with the sheer sense of rightness the moment brings.

He barely hears the claps and cheers of the small crowd watching them as they kiss. Barely hears a thing over the grateful thump of his heart as his husband slides his mouth lovingly over his.

 

* * *

 

The twilight has long since fallen into night and the sky above them becomes deep velvet black. There’s lanterns and fairy lights strewn throughout the gardens, illuminating the foliage like a smattering of stars and dotted along the long table made up on the grass, Allura has assembled gorgeous centrepieces of flowers and candles that make the table glassware sparkle brightly.

It’s exactly the intimate kind of setting that makes Shiro feel like this is the kind of wedding they would have had for themselves the first time around, had he and Keith met and got engaged under conventional circumstances. It makes him even more grateful to their friends for their efforts, for giving them this precious redo to look back on and cherish for years to come.

Keith sits beside him in his place of honour in the centre of the table, the rest of their friends seated around them. Shiro can’t stop glancing at the band on his finger, marvelling at how good it feels to have it back. He hadn’t felt its absence quite like Keith had, knowing that even without the symbol of their rings, his feelings for Keith weren’t any weaker, but seeing it back against his skin makes him warm in a way he couldn’t quite articulate. Keith’s words still echo in his thoughts, the promise he’d made with such fierceness and belief had made Shiro feel like the luckiest man in the world.

And he is, he thinks, watching the way his husband banters with Hunk and Matt, even Lotor and laughs with Pidge, at the way his shoulders have come loose, dark hair tucked behind one ear, eyes bright. And his smile… that smile that Shiro told himself he’d move planets for.

Of course, it might also have been the champagne in the flute he was holding in his hand, but Shiro likes to think it’s the power of love.

Keith must feel his gaze on him because he fades out of his conversation with Pidge and turns to him instead. It’s a warm night and like Shiro, Keith has discarded his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to mid forearm.

“What is it?” Keith asks him, one eyebrow raised. There’s an amused flicker in his eyes.

“Nothing,” Shiro answers, taking another sip of his champagne. The buzz in his veins is strong and coilingly warm in his gut but it’s love, he tells himself. Love that makes him smile like he does. “Just thinking how lucky I am.”

Of all the things he’s said tonight, it’s that which makes Keith’s cheeks stain pink. He might be a little buzzed himself, the small laugh he gives Shiro before he leans in to press his forehead against Shiro’s shoulder.

The chatter around them continues, along with the light clinks of silver cutlery on fine china plates. Candlelight flickers and a light breeze carries the scent of freshly cut flowers as it flitters past.

Keith leans against him.

“Are you drunk?” Shiro murmurs after a moment, chuckling.

“No,” Keith states sharply, then mumbles with less heat. “Maybe.”

Shiro laughs and Keith lifts his head. His cheeks are definitely pink and his eyes seem vaguely glassy. Not really enough to cause him to lose his wits though. Definitely not when he suddenly sits up and glances around.

“Where’s Lance?”

Shiro manages to pull his gaze away from his husband’s flush cheeks long enough to take note of the empty chair beside Allura.

“Not sure. Maybe he’s just taking a break.”

Keith’s eyes narrow. “He’s been gone a while.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Shiro murmurs. He switches his attention to his champagne flute, placing it gently on the table and wondering if it would be inappropriate to tug Keith into his lap. It’s their wedding (take two), right?

Then he catches Colleens amused glance and quickly shelves that idea.

Tells himself to lay off the champagne for a little while too.

“I’m going to go find him.”

“Keith, wait-“

Keith gives him a kiss that’s soft enough to blow whatever thoughts were swimming through his champagne addled mind out of the water. It’s interrupted by a deep chuckle from one end of the table and a few laughs. Someone somewhere whistles and Keith draws back, breaking the kiss with a chagrined huff.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Pidge scowls playfully. “Do I have to get the hose?”

“Hey,” Shiro protests, laughing as Keith stands up, dropping a white napkin over Pidge’s face before he disappears into the darkness. Pidge plucks it off her head and flicks it at Shiro instead.

“You’re so drunk,” she grins at him. He can tell she’s trying not to laugh and a small voice at the back of his head tells him he should probably be grateful for that.

“No. Not at all.”

Pidge snickers behind her hand as Matt leans over. “Oh yeah, he’s plastered. I hope this isn’t going to be like the time when I had to drag him off the lawn. He’s a lot heavier than he looks.”

“Nope,” Pidge announces brightly. “Shiro’s is Keith’s problem now.”

Matt and Pidge both cackle loudly then high five each other. Yeah, he was Keith’s problem now and he laughs to himself at the thought.

 

* * *

 

Keith finds Lance tucked away around the side of the house. He looks like he’s talking to himself, pacing in a small circle and tugging on the lapels of his navy suit experimentally before frowning then halting his pacing to take it off. He’s so distracted it’s nothing for Keith to slink up behind him and speak into his ear.

“Hey.”

Lance yelps loudly and jumps back about five steps, slamming a hand onto his chest as though clutching his heart.

“Keith!” Lance scowls at him on a wheeze. “You scared the hell out of me!”

Keith folds his arms across his chest but doesn’t bother to apologize. His eyes narrow. “What are you doing?”

Lance bends down to pick up his suit jacket from where he dropped it, holding it up and brushing off the non-existent dust that clings to it.

“Nothing,” he says. “What are you doing?”

Keith watches him fumble with the jacket for a moment, until the silence gets awkward enough that Lance turns to glare at him with reproach.

It’s shadowed beyond the house but a clear blue floodlight illuminates the drive. Their shadows skitter over the gravel as they move and there’s a burst of laughter from the others still at the table but it feels distant, further away than it should.

Lance isn’t laughing along with them now.

“What?” Lance huffs at Keith’s staring.

“You’re being weird. What’s going on.”

Lance pulls a face. “Nothing, okay. Jeez. Can’t a guy just get some air?”

“We’re already outside.”

“Oh, really?” Lance snarks back. “I couldn’t tell.”

Keith raises an eyebrow and another charged moment sits between them.

He’s not sure what Lance is up to, he’s been twitchy for most of the afternoon. Actually, all week now that Keith thinks about it. At first, he put it down to just the added stress he’d taken upon himself when he’d declared himself wedding planner, soundly bumping Lotor out of the way but then Keith thought maybe it was something private between him an Allura, only he’d seen them together today, happily devoted to each other as always. Away from Allura though, he was being weird.

Too weird, and Lance being weird made Keith anxious enough that he was about three seconds away from pinning him down and extracting the truth from him by force. It’s happened before and it wouldn’t be the last time.

“Spill it, McClain.”

Lance stares at him mutinously for a moment before sighing roughly. He flicks his jacket over one shoulder and stalks to Keith’s side, grabbing his elbow and steering him back towards the party.

“What are you doing?”

“Look, just go with me on this,” Lance mutters and there’s something in his voice that makes Keith bite back his retort and stop himself from jerking away. It sounds like he’s nervous, only he’s never known Lance to be nervous about anything.

“Lance,” he says quietly. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Lance tells him, too cheerfully to be true. “But fuck it, here goes nothing.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro looks up to see Lance and Keith making their way back to the table. Lance pauses a few feet away, gesturing towards the group and Keith gives him a suspicious look before turning slowly and slipping back to the seat at Shiro’s side. Shiro drapes an arm across the back of his chair.

“Everything okay?”

Keith’s lips purse. “Not sure. Lance is acting strange.”

Shiro doesn’t get a chance to answer when Sam stands up and directs them all towards another part of the garden. There’s excited chatter from the guests as they make their way down a small paved path and down a handful of steps that leads into a pretty courtyard. It’s once again illuminated by lanterns and tealights with more fairy lights entwined into the bushes.

In front of a curtain of starshaped twinkling lights, Lance perches on a stool with a guitar in his hands.

“Hey, everyone,” Lance says nervously as everyone shuffles in. Keith shoves his way to the front, tugging Shiro behind him and Allura steps into place beside him. He gives her a questioning glance but she’s smiling softly, not quite giving anything away.

The tension in Keith’s frame seems extreme.

“What’s he doing?” Keith mutters.

Lance shifts uncomfortably on the stool as he waits for the chatter to die down then he rubs the back of his neck anxiously.

“So, Keith, Shiro, I realised the other day that I never got you guys a wedding present, and since Keith is like, the _hardest_ person on the planet to buy presents for-“

“This is true,” Kolivan rumbles.

Lance brightens at the agreement. “Right?! I mean, how many pocketknives does one guy need really? Anyway,” Lance shifts a little. “I wanted to do something, um, a little different. Something you can’t really buy in a store because, um. Well, you’re my friends. Both of you.”

There’s a soft little murmur that rumbles through the crowd at that and even in the shadowy light in the courtyard, it’s easy to see the pink tips of his ears. Shiro finds himself more touched than he realised at how receptive Lance has been to him not just as Keith’s husband, but as a person in his own right.

Lance is staring at them now though with an expression that tells Shiro he’s not entirely sure how this is going to be received but he’s hoping for the best anyway. Keith hasn’t said a word, tight with tension almost as though he’s poised to flee. Shiro touches the back of his hand gently, pleased when Keith’s fingers instinctively turn and entangle with his. It’s barely noticeable but his husband’s shoulders drop slightly, the tension he’d been hold easing enough that Keith glances up at him before leaning into his side.

Shiro gives Lance a small nod of encouragement and it seems to be what Lance needs. He blinks once then sits up straighter on the stool, throwing back his shoulders. The next time he speaks, his voice is a little stronger for it.

“So, I have a song for you guys. I hope you like it.”

Silence settles around the garden as Lance grips the guitar in his hands. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes to centre himself before he begins and then he starts to strum and sing.

His voice is tremulous to start, he doesn’t look up until the first verse finishes but as he launches into the chorus, he does and Shiro knows by the way Keith shifts into him and he lets out a small choked laugh that they’ve locked gazes. Lance comes into his own then, smiling through the words that feel like perhaps they’ve been written just for them.

 

> _May you have auspiciousness and causes of success_   
>  _May you have the confidence to always do your best_   
>  _May you take no effort in your being generous_   
>  _Sharing what you can, nothing more nothing less_   
>  _May you know the meaning of the word happiness_   
>  _May you always lead from the beating in your chest_   
>  _May you be treated like an esteemed guest_   
>  _May you get to rest, may you catch your breath_
> 
> _And may the best of your todays be the worst of your tomorrows_   
>  _And may the road less paved be the road that you follow_
> 
> _Well here's to the hearts that you're gonna break_   
>  _Here's to the lives that you're gonna change_   
>  _Here's to the infinite possible ways to love you_   
>  _I want you to have it_
> 
> _Here's to the good times we're gonna have_   
>  _You don’t need money, you got a free pass_   
>  _Here's to the fact that I'll be sad without you_
> 
> _I want you to have it all_
> 
> _Oh! I want you to have it all_   
>  _I want you to have it_   
>  _I want you to have it all_

Shiro slides his arm securely around Keith’s waist, taking note of the tremble under his fingertips. There are more tears on his cheeks, and something else he’s not quite seen outside of the walls of their townhouse. It’s a little fierce and a lot grateful and it’s Keith suddenly letting Lance know what his gift means to him.

Lance gets bolder as the chorus repeats and once or twice he stumbles over a note because he’s smiling too widely around the lyrics. His focus sits mainly on Keith, but occasionally it wanders to the rest of the group, skimming over them to land on Shiro and Allura and then back again.

And through it all, Keith grips Shiro’s hand tightly for support.

The song wraps up and even before the final note sounds, the entire group is clapping and cheering. Keith unpeels himself from Shiro’s side to stalk across the small courtyard. He comes to a stop in front of Lance, who’s smile has faded a little as he stands up slowly. He doesn’t look at Keith as he leans the guitar against the stool but when he does, Keith immediately hauls him into a hug. A real hug that makes Lance blink in surprise before he laughs shakily and hugs him back.

“Okay, mullet, don’t make it weird.”

Keith releases him with a laugh then wipes the back of his hand over his face and sniffs. “That was cool, Lance.”

Lance rubs the back of his neck with a shaky kind of relief. “Thank god you actually liked that,” he jokes when Shiro approaches. “I thought it was going to go the other way for a minute there.”

“Why wouldn’t I like it, you idiot.” Keith rolls his eyes, but he softens it with a quirk of his lips and a light thump against Lance’s arm.

“It was great, Lance. I know that wasn’t easy for you, thank you.”

“Aw, nah,” Lance flushes a little at Shiro’s compliment. Allura slips silently to his side and curls a lean arm around him. He glances at her ruefully then gives a small shrug. “It wasn’t anything special.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Shiro says. “It was wonderful.”

“Yeah? Maybe I should quit my day job and take this thing on the road, huh? Become a superstar-“

Shiro laughs. “Maybe.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Keith reaches out to poke Lance lightly in the chest. Lance pulls a face in response but they both laugh. “Don’t want him getting a big head,” he teases.

“Yeah, it’s already pretty big,” Pidge pipes up, showing up at Shiro’s elbow. Lance sticks his tongue out at her.

“Don’t you have a bridge to go lurk under, you little goblin?”

Pidge sticks her nose in the air. “That’s a troll, idiot,” she tells him but then her expression softens. “It was nice, Lance. You did good.”

Lance blinks, taking a second glance at her in surprise. Allura gives him a kiss on the cheek then Hunk appears out of nowhere and lifts him into a hug that makes him squeak.

“Yeah,” Keith echoes. “It was. Thanks, Lance.”

 

* * *

 

Keith lingers in the courtyard after the others move back to the table. The chance to have a moment alone is welcomed, especially when an emotion he can’t name climbs up his throat and blocks it and he has to press his palms to his cheeks and scrub away the dampness there. His eyes are starting to feel gritty, making him feel tired. He’s not used to this wave crashing over him. In the past it was safer to keep everything under a lock and key, to keep things stable and distant, at arm’s length.

Letting everything in was exhausting. Beautiful. But exhausting.

“Fuck,” he mutters, not expecting anyone to be nearby but there’s a soft chuckle from behind him. He turns around, surprised but immensely pleased to see his husband standing there.

His husband.

He wonders if he’ll ever get tired of that little thrill that runs through him when he says the words.

“Shiro, uh. Sorry, I just needed a minute.”

Shiro smiles at him, soft and sweet. He still feels like he should pinch himself that that smile is for him. He traces every line and curve of it with his eyes, committing it to memory. He wants to commit every moment of this night to memory, not quite to overwrite their original wedding because that had been special in its own way, but because this night marked the start of something new. As though everything up to now it had been a kind of practice run and this was the start of the real thing.

He feels almost silly thinking that, but then his thoughts, like his emotions, seem to be all over the place tonight.

“Need me to go?”

Shiro makes the offer freely, one eyebrow raised with no hint of reproach behind it. It’s a genuine offer, one Keith appreciates because it just demonstrates how well Shiro has come to understand in their short time together. It hasn’t been long, but it’s been a lifetime too.

It’s an offer he has no intention to taking Shiro up on though.

“No.”

Shiro’s smile grows a wider. “Okay,” he chuckles. He moves closer, until there’s not much separating them save for a puff of evening breeze.

Keith has to tilt his head back slightly to meet his gaze and it’s warm and grounding and every dream Keith has never let himself dream.

“I need to tell you something,” he finally says.

“Oh? Everything okay?”

Keith wonders briefly if Shiro thinks it’s something to do with his sisters, with the drama that hasn’t quite been resolved there. Keith knows they’re just in a holding pattern, that something else will circle around to stir things up before long. Whenever they do, he plans to keep it as far away from Shiro as he can.

“Yes,” he answers, digging into the pocket of his pants. “Actually, it might just be easier to show you.”

Shiro’s brows rise but he doesn’t speak, not until Keith hands him the neatly folded piece of paper.

“It’s a copy, the original is back home but… well, figured you should know about this.”

He stands anxiously in front of Shiro has his husband’s eyes scan over the page, then there’s the smallest gasp and a smile that grows slowly to split his face and he lowers the page.

“Really?” Shiro asks. His eyes are so bright and pleased that Keith feels the lump reforming at the back of his throat. God, hasn’t he teared up enough tonight? He feels like he’s cried more tonight than he has in the last decade.

“Really,” he nods and then Shiro wraps him up with thick arms and hugs him just tight enough to lift his feet off the ground.

“Okay,” he laughs and Shiro releases him, but only long enough to cup his face and kiss him. Keith melts into it, melts into the happiness he can taste on Shiro’s lips.

“Keith Shirogane, huh?” Shiro murmurs when they draw back to catch their breath. Shiro reaches a hand up to thread it through the longer strands against his neck, his grey eyes thoughtful. “You could have hyphenated.”

Keith looks at him steadily. He doesn’t have to explain. “I know.”

Shiro cups his neck and smiles again, the pad of his thumb stroking over Keith’s jaw tenderly. “Keith Shirogane. I like the sound of that.”

"Me too," Keith says with a grin then he pauses, letting the moment expand around them. "I love you, Shiro."

The words fall out of him so easily, as though he can't keep it inside. He never thought he’d enjoy saying it as much as he did. He can’t remember saying it at all before Shiro had come into his life. His uncles weren’t big on words, more on gestures, but Keith finds himself falling in love with the shape of them in his mouth, the way Shiro’s eyes go dark and soft when he hears them. He likes the way the words sound in his voice, and he knows Shiro does too.

Shiro tilts his head, gaze soft. “I love you, too.”

Keith’s eyelashes flutter as he turns his face to seek out Shiro’s palm. He presses a kiss against it before tugging Shiro’s hand down and stepping into his embrace. He’s warm with only the thin material of their dress shirts separating them, warm and solid under Keith’s hands. Shiro’s arms curl around him pulling their bodies close together. Keith lays his head against Shiro’s chest, drawing in the familiar beat of Shiro’s heart and letting its steady rhythm settle his emotions back into their usual equilibrium.

They’ve come a long way since that first time, but they still have a lifetime to go. Keith’s sure they won’t always get it right, that it won’t always be smooth sailing as much as he wants to stay in this moment forever. Life isn’t like that. There are ups and downs and they’re only human but it’s the journey they’re going to have together that’s going to make it all worth it.

He smiles as Shiro swoops in to kiss him.

A journey at Shiro’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. 
> 
> So that's done. 
> 
> You'll no doubt notice there are still a few loose ends that need to be wrapped up and I still have a lot in the story I want to write. The reason why I'm wrapping this portion up here is because aside from it already being crazy long, the next part will incorporate more character POV's, be a bit faster paced and will generally have a slightly different style and I didn't want to start changing in the middle of this one. Hopefully you guys will still stick around for the drama coming up (including Keith and Lance kicking ass, more weddings and Keith and Shiro being as grossly in love as ever).
> 
> As for the song.... I'm not usually a big fan of lyrics in fics but this song just made me fall in love with for this AU because it's just so perfect when you read the lyrics as a message from Lance to Keith, wishing him the best and truly wanting Keith to be happy. Even the line about missing him when he's not around is so perfectly Lance in this AU I couldn't not use it. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I won't ever let go of this AU so you can expect one-shots and general shenanigans to pop up too (assuming s8 doesn't murder me.... who am i kidding, of course it will). 
> 
> And if you've made it this far... THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. I honestly can not express how much it means to me.


	65. **BONUS CHAPTER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter because FUCK s8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s8 really upset me so weee it's back to my happy place
> 
> (also, thank you to the mafs twitter rp for the inspo for this, I couldn’t stop thinking about it!)

The hotel carpet makes their footsteps silent but it’s their soft laughter that echoes down the hallway.

“I can’t believe Lance even thought to do this,” Keith says, shaking his head. The smile on his lips holds a faintly guilty sheen. “I underestimated him.”

“He’s a bit of a romantic,” Shiro agrees, pausing by the door that reflects the number on the keycard in his hands. It seems vaguely familiar but he had been too distracted the first time around to take it in. He recalls this moment a few months ago, standing with Keith outside their hotel room dressed in their wedding suits after only meeting for the first time just a few hours earlier.

Keith doesn’t hold flowers this time.

Shiro eyes him. “You know, I remember thinking last time that if it had been a conventional wedding, I would have carried you all the way to the bed instead of just over the threshold.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “All the way to the bed, huh?”

“Yeah,” Shiro nods, a smile teasing at his mouth. He stares at his husband as the idea blooms. His grin gets wider.

Keith’s eye narrow sharply. “No,” he states emphatically. “Not again.”

“Why not?” Shiro teases. It makes him laugh out loud when Keith takes a deliberate step back, out of Shiro’s reach. It wouldn’t take much to scoop him up though. “Come on, it’s tradition.”

Keith lifts his chin and a new glint forms in his eye. He runs his gaze from the top of Shiro’s head all the way to his toes.

Oh.

Shiro doesn’t need to guess where this is going.

Keith cocks his head.

“Hmm, maybe I should carry _you_ ,” he says

“Mm, I know you’re strong baby, but-“

He’s cut off by his husband taking a step forward. Shiro suddenly has a mental image of them in a embarrassing tangle of limbs on the floor. No, there’s nothing romantic about that.

“Keith, no.”

Keith pauses. “No?”

“No.”

The shift against Keith’s expression is subtle. His tone goes dangerously soft. “Don’t you trust me, Takashi?”

Shiro barks out a laugh at that. “I have every faith that you’re stronger than you look, but I’m also a lot heavier than I look.”

He waves his bionic arm for emphasis, only to have Keith wrinkle his nose and advance a step back into his space.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You can’t lift me, Keith.”

“The hell I can’t.”

Keith reaches for him, just as Shiro backs up against the door, attempting to wave him off. “No,” he laughs. “Bridal carry is _my_ thing.”

Keith’s gives him a wicked little grin, sliding closer. Shiro realises he has nowhere else to go when the door becomes solid against his back.

“Keith,” he warns.

“Takashi,” Keith says pleasantly back.

Shiro hisses just as Keith slides closer, and then his surprisingly strong arm is suddenly around Shiro’s waist and his eyes glint. Shiro has a beat to wonder if Keith will try to knock his feet out from under him. It seems like the type of sneaky tactic his husband would use.

Shiro eyes him warily. It’s late in the evening and his hair has fallen back to it’s normal disarray around his face. There are creases on his suit jacket but it’s that quirk of his lips that warns Shiro that Keith isn’t messing around. The mental image of them both on their asses flickers by again, but it’s not quite that that makes him hesitate.

It’s Keith that deserves to be swept off his feet and carried to heaven, not Shiro.

He opens his mouth to say as much just as a chatter of voices echo down the hall. A beat later and a small group of hotel guests round the corner and it distracts Keith enough that his hold loosens and he pauses. It’s a small window, just what Shiro needs to swipe the keycard over the lock and shove the suite door open. He holds it open with one arm.

The group passes by, casting them curious glances.

Shiro nods politely at them then smirks openly at his husband.  He schools his face into a serious expression. “After you, my love.”

Keith glowers at him for a heartbeat before he huffs and shoulders his way past Shiro into the room. Shiro takes the opportunity to smack his husband’s backside lightly as he passes, laughing when Keith shoots him an irritated glare over his shoulder.

“What?” He feigns innocence.

“You know what,” Keith grumbles as he heads towards the bed to kick off his shoes.

Shiro lets the door swing shut then engages the lock, effectively sealing them inside their own little bubble. Like last time, their bags have already been delivered and sit in the corner waiting for them.  The room itself is virtually identical to the one they had on their wedding night, down to the champagne on ice and two sparkling glasses. Even the view looks the same.

It's an odd sense of de javu to be back in this moment once again. The suite feels the same, giving Shiro the sense of dipping back in time but then his eyes fall on the way Keith moves around the room.

There’s no nerves here now. No walls Shiro needs to tear down. No hesitation.

No holding back.

He marvels quietly over their journey as he watches Keith move to the window. He’s discarded his suit jacket, leaving only his white shirt and he’s absently plucking at the cufflinks at his wrists to loosen them as he stares out over the city.

He stills for a moment, then places a hand on the glass and presses his forehead against it, looking down to the street below.

“This is the same room,” Keith announces suddenly. “The exact one.”

Keith’s announcement brings Shiro out of his reverie. He glances around with a small frown.

It could be, he concedes, but he imagines the rooms in the hotel all followed fairly standard layouts. The chances of it being the exact the same room as their original wedding night might be too slim. It’s a nice thought though, and a small, romantic part of him leans into the fantasy.

He watches in curiosity as Keith suddenly unpeels himself from the window and pads into the bathroom. A moment later, he emerges with a grin on his face.

“Yep, same room. I remember seeing a chipped tile in the shower and it’s still there.”

“Well,” Shiro hears himself laugh. “Then I guess this really was meant to be.”

Keith answers with a chuckle but it fades gently.

So does Shiro’s.

The air in the room suddenly becomes heavy, thick with balance of a lifetime lived in a few short weeks.

The last time they were here, they had been so new. So new and untried and untested. Now they were still new, but a little less untired, a little less untested. They still had a lot to learn about each other, and a lot to learn about the life they’d chosen to embark on side by side.

It may have been a social experiment that brought them together, but it would be love that would keep them together and sustain their bond. Love, a little bit of faith and a good healthy dose of optimism.

And what was love if not optimism that no matter what the world threw at them that they would weather it side by side, united as one.

Shiro’s throat becomes dry. Suddenly he can’t move.

It seems that Keith’s thoughts mirror his own, because his expression goes soft. Shiro is thankful when it’s Keith that moves first, crossing the room slowly. His gaze never once leaves Shiro, filled with so much warmth and weight that it hits him with all the force of a supernova just how much this moment means to him. Even more so than their fresh exchange of vows, even more than sharing a meal with their closest friends and family. Somehow this moment has snuck up on him and left him paralysed but it’s Keith that takes his hand, laying Shiro’s palm against Keith’s cheek.

“It’s okay, Takashi.” Keith says quietly. “This is real.”

There’s a fissure that forms somewhere then Keith moves his thumb and the tears Shiro had managed to hold at bay all day suddenly break their banks. They stream in tiny rivers down his cheeks and his breath hitches.

It’s happiness, joy, relief.

It’s love and when Keith looks up at him with a knowing quirk against the corner of his mouth, Shiro lets out a small, grateful little smile.  Keith steps closer, reaching up to wrap his arms around Shiro’s neck and Shiro lets him. He lets his husband to wrap around him, savouring the way he cradles him like he’s something precious and in need of protection. It’s nice to let go for a moment, to know he doesn’t have to be strong all the time, that Keith has the strength for both of them in the moments that Shiro doesn’t.

What was it he’d said in his vows? _There to fight your battles for you if you grow weak, to stand beside you when you are strong._

He feels a little weak now.

“Before I met you, I had never felt anything like this in my entire life,” he whispers. “Nothing like this.”

“I know,” Keith answers softly. His voice finds that familiar rasp again.

Keith presses himself closer until they’re heart to heart. Shiro is sure he can feel his husband’s heart his heart thrumming with strength under his skin.

This was his world, his entire universe right here.

“Keith,” he murmurs once he’s managed to claw back a modicum of control. He lifts a hand to thread it through Keith’s hair.

“Yeah?” Keith answers softly.

Shiro’s mouth feels dry. “Make love to me.”

\--

Shiro had been the one to prop him up during the ceremony and through the aftermath of dinner and Lance’s musical gift to them but now it’s become Keith’s chance to be the support his husband needs.

Behind these four walls, away from the people who had celebrated with them, they were alone. It was just them here. No barriers, nothing between them and no one to watch them… and the stoic façade Shiro had held so tightly to falls away completely.

It’s a beautiful surrender that Keith feels privileged to be able to see. Only he gets this part of Shiro. This incredulous, scrubbed raw version of his husband belongs only to him.

Keith trails a hand up his back, tucking under the jacket he still wears, pressing against his dress shirt. Shiro’s words echo sweetly in his ears.

_Make love to me._

For as long as Keith lives, he’ll never forget the way those words sound in Shiro’s voice or the slight crack of emotion that threads through them. It’s a beautiful plea, one that Keith has every intention of honouring.

He tilts his face up to search out his husband’s lips. They’re soft under his own, trembling with the slightest vibration that tells Keith how raw Shiro has allowed himself to come.

“Takashi,” he murmurs into the kiss. The name feels almost too heavy on his tongue, too formal so he tries something else. Something that no one else can dare lay a claim to. “Kashi.”

Shiro’s small inhalation is all he needs to know.

Keith smiles to himself as he hooks slim fingers against the buttons of Shiro’s shirt, easily undoing them and parting the soft material. Shiro’s skin is so warm he can feel the heat radiating off him in waves.

“Remember our honeymoon?” Keith says with a low chuckle. “That night you pulled the buttons off your shirt?”

Shiro’s mouth quirks and despite the uneven flutter of his heartbeat under Keith’s palm, his tone is dry. “You ripped my shirt.”

Keith grins at the memory. “Yes.”

Shiro laughs softly as Keith peels the cotton shirt away from his shoulders with the wide stroke of his palms. Under Keith’s hands, his laughter fades and he becomes still and quiet. Keith trails his hands over his bare skin, down Shiro’s arms and over the still angry join of where his prosthetic melds to his body.

It looks better now, soothed with Allura’s expertise alongside with Hunk’s tech. It was something they were perfecting a little better every day, and soon Shiro wouldn’t be the only one who had tech like this.

Keith wonders if the warm little surge of pride that blooms in the centre of his chest whenever he thinks about the direction Shiro has chosen will ever fade. Funny to think that the first time in this room he hadn’t realised the extent of Shiro’s tech. He shifts back through the memory now of that moment, sitting beside Shiro on the bed and holding his arm against his lap as he traced his fingers so gently over it. He remembers the awe he’d felt, and the way Shiro had tried to pull back slightly because he wasn’t entirely comfortable letting Keith see it like that.

He thinks about how much that’s changed, how far they’ve come and it’s not even a thought to press a soft kiss against the scarred skin of Shiro’s bicep now. Shiro inhales softly and his human hand slides into Keith’s hair, tangling his fingers gently in the strands.

“You never questioned it,” Shiro says into the quiet spaces between them. “But you never let me feel weak for having it.”

“Because you’re not,” Keith tells him. He raises his eyes and meets Shiro’s gaze calmly. “And you never will be. Even when the nightmares come, I’ll be there to help you through.”

Shiro doesn’t need to answer, although Keith’s not sure he could even if he wanted to.

Keith kisses him again, chasing his husband’s lips as he further divests them both of all the barriers between them and nudges Shiro back towards the bed. When Shiro is on his back underneath him, he pauses only long enough to wave a hand over the lamps to plunge the room into gloom. The only light that filters in now is from the tall windows that overlook the city.

Shiro’s eyes glimmer in the darkness.

“Kashi,” he whispers again. They wear nothing but their wedding rings and the cloak of moonlight on their bodies. “I love you so much.”

He breathes into Shiro’s skin, trailing his lips against Shiro’s jaw, curling against him. Shiro’s hands settle against his hips, wide and encompassing. It chokes him sometimes, all this emotion that spills out of him. He’s not good with pretty words but he tries anyway. “You make my heart so happy.”

“Keith,” Shiro murmurs, his voice so soft. He says Keith’s name over and over like a prayer. It’s so beautiful in the way it sounds.

Keith leans back and runs his hands over his husband’s body, savouring the way he comes alive under his touch. Shiro’s back arches, his skin flushes pink and his lips part with soft pants. Through it all Keith strokes him and tastes him and sings into his skin until Shiro’s heavy thighs are wrapped around him, drawing him in deep.

“Oh. Oh, god, Shiro-“

Keith braces himself with one hand against his husband’s chest, the other tangled in the sheets beside Shiro’s head. He groans at the bliss that swirls in him and around him.

There are not many words between them now. They’ve moved beyond that, into nothing but touch and sensation. It feels like a part of Keith has been set free, leaking out of him like tendrils of light and being met by Shiro’s own. It feels like Keith is falling into him, blending until it’s not just their hearts that beat in sync, but their breath and their touch and their souls as well.

It feels like home, like love, like acceptance. It feels like his.

Keith rocks into Shiro, gasping his name and climbing higher. It’s not difficult to edge close to the peak but it’s not where he wants this to end. His eyelids flutter when Shiro’s cool bionic fingers journey over his hip and down over his backside, delving into the crease and working Keith open with trembling touches.

It’s almost too much. He drives in once more, drinking in the sound of his husband’s low panting moan until he manages to force himself to stop. He shudders in place with the effort, willing his heartrate to ease before drawing back, sweat slicked and throbbing but hungry with anticipation.

“Yes,” he bites his lip to hold back the yearning in his tone. “Please, Shiro.”

Shiro looms up and then he finds himself on his back. Shiro’s hands are greedy, dragging over his skin as his lips capture Keith’s in a possessive kiss. He keens against it at the heavy breech that is Shiro claiming him.

“Keith, you’re so good to me. You’re mine, baby, all mine, made for me-“

Keith barely hears any of it, his body already thrummed so tight and now so close to the edge. Shiro grips his hips tightly and impales himself deeply enough Keith sees stars behind his eyelids. He shudders once, sobs out Shiro’s name and then quivering and spilling with Shiro’s arms like bands tightly around his shoulders and his mouth on his neck.

\--

Later Shiro sinks into the bubbly warm water in the tub of the suite’s opulent bathroom with a faint wince and tugs Keith in after him.  They hadn’t had a chance to make use of it the first time they were here but Shiro is determined to take advantage of it now.

“Oh,” Keith gasps quietly as he sinks into the water. “Okay, this is nice.”

Shiro hums, tugging Keith towards him in the big tub. Keith settles in, his back to Shiro’s chest and Shiro curls his arms around him. He likes how they can fit together like this and Keith chuckles quietly when he says it out loud.

“We fit together in all sorts of ways,” he muses softly. He feels languid in Shiro’s arms, soft and sweet. All his sharp edges faded away. Shiro knows this is a side Keith keeps well-guarded but it’s always been one Shiro had been privy too.

Keith had given him every part of him right from the start.

Shiro kisses his husband’s shoulder. “We do. And I’m so glad.”

Keith tilts his head lazily, baring his neck. Shiro brushes the dark strands away with his bionic fingers, exposing the smooth column of Keith’s pale throat. There’s a few marks there now, small bruises that match the shape of Shiro’s mouth. It’s primitive, but he can’t help the small swell of possession that flitters through him at the sight.

His. Keith was his. Always.

He can’t stop himself from nuzzling in as his thoughts wander, savouring the way Keith’s skin tastes, enjoying the pulse of his heartrate. He might be tired after the day they’ve had and its well past midnight but he has no intention of trying to sleep just yet.

Keith trails his fingers through the soapy bubbles in slow motion, admiring the way they cling to his fingers and sparkle in the light. They’re fragrant too, hints of something that might be vanilla but sweet enough that Shiro makes a mental note to get more of it so that they can relieve this memory at home, until he realises the townhouse doesn’t have a tub.

As usual, Keith catches the trail of his thoughts without even meaning to.

“I can’t believe we won’t be able to do this at home,” Keith says sleepily. A profoundly satisfied sigh falls out of his chest, causing the bubbles to ripple over the water.  “I didn’t realise what we were missing.”

“I know,” Shiro murmurs in answer. “Maybe we should renovate.”

Keith snorts weakly in amusement. “That seems like overkill. Maybe we’ll just have to come back here every now and then instead.”

“Dirty weekends in the city.”

“Or midweek,” Keith adds. He flicks off the bubbles on his fingers and turns his face, reaching up to capture Shiro’s chin in his hand. Shiro finds himself tugged forward for a brief kiss he happily gives. The bubble remnants tickle Shiro’s cheeks but it doesn’t stop him for indulging Keith in anything he wants.

“I can live with that,” he says when Keith finally releases him. “I’ll take any time with you I can get.”

Keith gives him a small smile before turning forward and relaxing into him once again. Shiro finds himself resting his cheek against the top of Keith’s head. It’s a nice thought, one that brings up the smallest flicker of unease in his gut.

They’re riding the high of cloud nine right now, but it won’t always be this way. It couldn’t be – and that wasn’t from a fatalistic point of view, Shiro tells himself. It was pragmatic. It was reality. It was life.

“The next few months are going to be kind of crazy,” he says, thinking about the long hours he’s going to need to put in. It would have been wiser to wait until his contract with the garrison was completely wrapped up before they jumped into the new company but Hunk and Allura were so keen to get started that Shiro didn’t want to stall their momentum. “We’re going to have to take the moments we can.”

“I can cut down my hours if I have to,” Keith answers. He says it confidently, without hesitation. It drives home how much he’s willing to support Shiro on this and he experiences another wave of gratitude.

“You would do that?”

Keith glances over his shoulder to give Shiro small frown, as though chastising him for doubting him. “Of course.”

Shiro kisses his shoulder. There goes his heart, swelling up again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Shiro. And I’m going to support you every way I can.”

Shiro tightens his arms around his husband and smiles into his skin.

\--

It’s just before dawn when they sit tucked together on the small lounge by the window and stare out over the city. Keith cradles Shiro against his chest, his arms draped over his shoulders. Their hands are entwined, the matching black bands on their fingers knocking together gently.

Over the city, the sky slowly changes and pale fingers of gold creep out from the horizon, staining the world in warm hues.

“It feels appropriate we should watch the sunrise together,” Shiro murmurs quietly. His words are a low vibration in his chest.

“Yeah?” Keith smiles. “And why is that?”

Shiro pauses before he answers. He seems sleepy, the long day and the longer night catching up with him. They’d dozed after they’d stumbled out of the tub, only to mess themselves up all over again.

“Everything will be different from now on,” Shiro says. “Neither of us are alone anymore. I know it won’t always be like this and we’ll have bumps and fights and misunderstandings, but I’ll never stop loving you Keith. And I’ll never let our marriage be anything but my number one priority.”

Keith drops his lips to his hair and briefly closes his eyes to the sunrise. He wants to memorize all of this. When they’re old and grey and with an entire lifetime behind them, he wants to remember how this moment feels. He hopes with every fibre of his soul he’ll get the chance.

“I’m not sure if I will be any good at this,” he finally says and it makes Shiro chuckle.

“At what? Being a husband? You’re doing pretty great so far.”

“So are you.”

Shiro goes quiet. And still.

“No, I haven’t,” he says. His tone is heavy with regret and something that sounds like sorrow. “I’ve already made plenty of mistakes.”

Keith knows he’s talking about the garrison.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Keith murmurs. “And I haven’t been perfect either.”

A few beats pass as they reflect on their journey. He squeezes their joined hands. “Besides,” Keith continues. “Hasn’t it made us stronger for it?”

Shiro lifts their hands and kisses the back of Keith’s palm. It’s faintly apologetic, although it doesn’t need to be.

“We’re muddling through together,” Shiro says quietly.

“Together.”

\--


End file.
